


like a handprint on my heart

by the_one_that_fell



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Canon-Typical Alcohol and Drug Use, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6689326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_one_that_fell/pseuds/the_one_that_fell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dude, we've got an over-competitive golf dad, a badass art freak, a pre-med lax bro on the verge of a breakdown, a chronically naked rugby player, a beat-boxing giant, and an itty-bitty, baking figure skater - there's no way we came together accidentally. This was <i>fate</i>." </p><p>"Or it's the normal progression of human beings making friends. Chill out, bro." </p><p> </p><p>  <i>(Or, the one where no one plays hockey, but it still manages to bring them all together.)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This was more or less born from my love of meet cutes and friendship fics. 
> 
> (not that there won't be smooches. there will be. a lot. i'm weak.)

_October 8th, 2012_

 

Larissa Duan could not draw legs.

She had fought tooth and nail with her parents to take more than one art class her first semester and she would be _damned_ if she failed Intro to Figure Drawing because of _legs_. Larissa knew that she needed to practice, but after several hours of staring at pictures of people walking and running and standing on a library computer, it became clear that she needed a real model.

Though she’d been cursed with a short stature, Larissa had spent all 18 years of her life cultivating a large personality and the confidence to wield it. She packed up her sketchbook and wandered out onto the quad, scanning the throngs of students.

There was a half-naked guy with a god-awful mustache playing frisbee who looked like a potential candidate, but he also hadn’t stopped ranting at one of his friends for the entire time Larissa had watched him. That wouldn't do - she needed quiet to concentrate or else she’d be stuck drawing stick legs for the rest of her (probably short) art career.

Then she noticed a guy who looked like he was finishing up a run, using a bike rack to stretch his legs. They were very nice legs, and they were mostly uncovered in the ratty basketball shorts he was wearing.

(Which - Larissa desperately wanted to tell him that he looked like he’d just robbed a Burger King. The dark hoodie, the stupid beanie, those nasty shorts...it all offended her artistic sensibilities, yet fascinated her at the same time. Bros were another species entirely.)

The guy, who was now leaning back against the bike rack and drinking from his water bottle, didn’t have earbuds in, which Larissa found unusual. She’d run cross-country in high school and everyone she knew who didn’t run in pairs liked to listen to music when they ran, outside of races. There was an intensity in his eyes that Larissa had only ever known in the most dedicated of her teammates.

 Yeah. She decided she  _really_ wanted to draw the poorly-dressed, angry-looking bro. She could probably build an entire gallery of art dedicated to his gross-yet-endearing aesthetic.

 “Hey,” she called, walking over as fast as her small legs could manage. The guy looked up, eyes wide, face stony. “I’ll buy you a six-pack if you let me draw you for an hour.”

 The guy raised an eyebrow at her, confused. Then, he asked, “Are you even legal?”

 Of _course_ he’d focus on that part. She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I can’t get you beer. Whad’ya say?”

 The guy shook his head. “I don’t drink.”

 Of _course_. Larissa huffed, crossing her arms.

 He gave her a long, calculating look and then asked, “Why do you want to draw me?”

 Larissa shrugged. “I need to learn how to draw legs. You’ve got a nice pair and you don’t seem like a talker.” She paused, then added. “I could _pay_ you. I mean, only like twenty bucks but, hey, that’s more than I would’ve spent on the beer.”

 The guy gave her another long look, though he seemed more amused than confused. “You don’t have to pay me.”

 Larissa was taken aback. “For real? Dude, _thank you_.” She stuck out her hand. “Larissa Duan.”

 The guy smiled and shook her hand. “Jack Zimmermann.”

 

 

* * *

 

_April 6th, 2013_

 

Justin expected a lot of things, living in the lax house. Wild parties, clogged bathroom drains, beer cans hidden in weird places - these were all things he’d been prepared for. But finding a naked, drunk guy with a gross mustache sitting in the tree outside Justin’s window singing a song about hating the lacrosse team? Not so much.

“Fuck- the- lacrosse team! _Fuck the lacrosse team!_ ” Naked Guy sang. Justin was almost certain it was supposed to be to the tune of Uptown Funk but honestly it was 4 a.m. and really hard to tell. Justin was possibly _also_ drunk, but in his bed like a normal person at this god-forsaken hour.

He sighed, stumbling over to the window, and shouted, “Dude, shut the _fuck up_!”

Mustache guy just laughed and took a swig from his flask. “Can’t be tamed, brah!”

“Can’t be- Fuck, no, I need to sleep. Go _home_.” Justin tried to glare at Naked Guy, but he was tired and honestly the whole situation would be funny after he slept on it. Which is why he needed this douche to shut up and let him go to bed.

Naked Guy started humming Taylor Swift. “ _F-f-fuck the lax bro-o-o-os_!”

“I swear to God,” Justin grumbled, then said a bit louder, “I’ll call campus security.”

Naked Guy laughed. “Not with your bros over there hot-boxing, you won’t.”

Justin glanced over to Taylor’s car parked on the side of the house, the windows fogged up with smoke. Dammit, Naked Guy was right. Justin wouldn’t do that to his bros.

“Get out of our tree,” Justin said, trying to sound intimidating. It just came out weary and annoyed instead.

“Nah,” Naked Guy said. “This tree is my _home_ now.”

“Fuck it,” Justin said, at the end of his rope. He needed to be at the library _early_ tomorrow, he had an exam coming up that he was _freaking out_ about. Drastic times called for drastic measures.

He pulled on a pair of shorts and the first shoes he could find, then slid down the staircase banister, nearly falling to the floor. He thought about grabbing the (underused) broom from the hall closet, but knew that would just make Naked Guy climb higher and then he'd _never_ leave. Then, inspiration hit.

When he got out onto the front lawn, Naked Guy was crooning “Lax Bros Are a Bunch of Over-Privileged Cockholes Whose Sport Sucks Donkey Balls” to the tune of...well, Justin wasn’t sure if there even _was_ a tune. He said nothing, knowing that Naked Guy was watching him, and walked over to the hose reel.

“Oh, shit,” he heard Naked Guy mumble. Justin acted quickly, twisting the water to full pressure and yanking out a good length of hose. He turned to the tree, hose pointed at the ground.

“One last chance, dude. Get off our lawn.”

Naked Guy laughed and shook his fist at Justin. “ _You damn kids get off my lawn!_ ”

Justin snorted and gave Naked Guy a smirk. “Your funeral.”

 

 

* * *

 

_February 7th, 2014_

 

Eric Bittle was in love.

Aaron was tall and handsome and had stunning blue eyes and the voice of angel. He was _out_ , had been out since he was thirteen, and proudly walked across campus holding Eric’s hand. They went on dates every week, coffee and dinner and movies and everything Eric had missed out on in high school. Aaron was older, too, _experienced_ , which was _great_ \- except for the fact that he was a senior and would be moving back to Portland after graduation. (Eric tried not to think about that, though now that it was February it was getting harder to avoid.)

“So we’re having a Valentine’s Day concert next week,” Aaron told him one morning as they nabbed their favorite corner table at Annie’s. “The Wellodies, I mean. And then there’s gonna be an after party...I know it’s not the most _romantic_ date, but…”

Eric smiled. “But you want to go. That’s fine, honey, I’d love to meet your acapella friends.”

Aaron beamed. “Great! The party should be really fun, I think Grace and Joe bought, like, twenty boxes of Franzia. And Adam might not have been kidding about the keg, though you can never tell with him.”

“Sounds like a blast,” Eric said with a small laugh. “Should I bake anything?”

Aaron waved him off. “Nah, this isn’t a PTA meeting.”

Eric felt his smile falter just a little; the baking club _loved_ when he brought pies to their parties, as did the GSA and the figure skating club. Drunk people always appreciated baked goods and he had a gut feeling the Wellodies would, too.

Aaron didn’t seem to sense his frustration and instead just gave him a wink. “All you need to bring is your sweet ass. Also, like ten bucks, Joe gets weird about people paying him when he buys booze in bulk.”

“Of course.” Eric consciously widened his smile again. “So how was your exam yesterday?”

 

* * *

 

The concert was, frankly, terrible. Half the group was clearly already drunk and there were more dick jokes than Eric thought appropriate, but that in itself would’ve been okay if Aaron hadn’t had _that_ solo. Now, Eric wasn’t a trained musician, but even _he_ could tell that Aaron was too loud and under the pitch for the entire three minutes that the audience had to endure his rendition of “Silly Love Songs.” Eric still clapped the loudest, though, because he was damn good boyfriend.

It didn’t seem like Eric was the only one disgruntled with the performance, either. The beat-boxer - some _hulking_ blonde guy with glasses whose large stature and bro-y clothes made Eric want to run in the other direction - was scowling most of the night, desperately trying to keep the group on the same beat. His glares were ignored by the rest of the group, though Eric couldn’t help but notice that the guy glared at Aaron the most.

The concert - thankfully - ended after half an hour and Eric shyly approached the singers as they chatted and congratulated each other. The big guy was the only one packing up sound equipment, somewhat apart from the rest of the group.

“Oh, hey!” Aaron wrapped an arm around Eric’s shoulder. “Guys, this is Eric, my boyfriend.”

Eric waved at them awkwardly, wishing he had a plate of cookies or something to hold onto. Making friends was easier with baked goods. “Hi, y’all.”

They were all friendly enough, especially Grace and Maura who raved about how cute he was. This made Eric feel a little better as he and Aaron meandered towards Grace’s apartment, where the party was being thrown. Aaron grinned at him as Eric complimented his solo, and while Eric still felt a little off, holding Aaron’s hand was always something of a comfort.

The party was in full swing by the time they arrived and Eric hadn’t realized that acapella kids could _party_. About half of them had already lost their shirts and the crappy wine was flowing freely. A couple handles of Svedka were scattered around haphazardly; every now and then, someone would take a pull straight from the bottle. Eric grimaced and made a note to avoid ever accepting shots from the Wellodies.

Aaron, it turned out, was popular among his peers. _Very_ popular. An hour into the party and he’d been commandeered from Eric's side into the middle of the makeshift dance floor, at least five different half-naked people grinding up on him. Eric nursed a cup of wine, standing awkwardly by himself in the corner.

“Dancing not your thing?” The big, glasses guy stood next to him, some fancy-looking craft beer in hand.

“Oh, no, it is,” Eric said, casting his eyes down. “Just...not tonight.”

Big Guy nodded, taking a swig of his beer. “I get that. They’re...intense.”

“Mhmm.” There was an awkward pause, then Eric stuck out his hand for Big Guy to shake. “Eric, by the way.”

“Aaron?” Big Guy asked, shaking his hand. “Wait, Aaron’s dating another Aaron?”

“ _Eric_. Not Aaron. That would be confusing.”

Big Guy nodded thoughtfully. “That’s still too similar. What’s your last name?”

Eric frowned. “Bittle.”

“Hmm.” Big Guy tapped his chin thoughtfully, then grinned. “I’m gonna call you Bitty. ‘Cause you’re itty-bitty.”

Eric gaped at him. “Excuse _you_ , I’m a normal height! It’s not my fault you’re freakishly huge!”

Big Guy let out a loud, guffawing laugh. He slapped Eric on the back, noticing when Eric flinched. “Sorry,” he said. Then: “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

In any situation where those words had been uttered between Eric and a large jock, Eric had always been the one to utter them. He wasn’t quite sure how to be on the receiving end. “No! No, not at all.”

“Bitty,” Big Guy said, grimacing a little. “Is it because I’m freakishly huge?”

Eric laughed, hiding his face in his cup. “You’re just...not the type of guy who typically...talks to someone like me.”

Big Guy frowned, brows furrowing behind the rims of his glasses. “Why wouldn’t I talk to you?”

Eric shot a glance over at Aaron, mentally willing for his boyfriend to break away from his harem to save Eric from this conversation. He shrugged, not meeting Big Guy’s eyes. “‘Cause I’m gay. And you’re...wearing Nike sandals with socks.”

“You know this is _Samwell_ , right?” Big Guys asked. “Even the bro-iest of bro isn’t going to mess with you here.” He paused, jaw tightening. “And if they do, you let me know, okay? I won’t let anyone mess with you.”

Eric was oddly touched that this large, drunk stranger was willing to fight bigots in his honor. “Well, thank you…?”

Big Guy grinned. “Adam. Adam Birkholtz.”

“Well, thank you, Adam Birkholtz,” Eric said, beaming. Then, after an awkward pause. “Your beat-boxing was very impressive.”

Adam shrugged. “Thanks. We were a bit off tonight, I think some of the guys pre-gamed a little too hard. But it’s always a fun time.”

There was something off in Adam’s voice when he said the word "fun," like he was trying to believe it himself but just falling short. Eric patted his arm lightly. “I would’ve liked to have heard you sing, I’ll bet you’ve got a lovely voice.”

Adam grinned down at him. “Oh, it’s okay. The guys recruited me for my beat-boxing, not my bass. What about you, do you sing?”

Eric laughed. “Not outside of my shower, no- _oh_.” He stopped, heart plunging into his stomach. 

There, in the midst of the writhing mass of dancing bodies, Aaron was pressed up against another guy, someone Eric didn’t recognize. Their faces were centimeters apart, lips nearly brushing. Then Aaron dipped forward, pulling the other man in for a deep, sloppy kiss. Eric was out the door in seconds, tears welling up in his eyes.

It was snowing again and the sidewalks were slick. Eric skidded along, just trying to put as much distance between him and the party. He needed to find somewhere to cry in peace. For not the first time since he started dating Aaron, Eric wished he could call his mother. He'd never felt more alone. 

 

 

* * *

 

It turned out Jack was the _perfect_ model. He could hold one position forever without complaint, didn’t try to make small talk at all, and even rolled up his shorts so Larissa could see more of his thighs. It took her an entire five minutes to actually begin drawing him because she was _so stunned_ her plan had actually worked.

 At one point a few guys passing by wolf-whistled at Jack. He rolled his eyes and waved to them.

 “Friends?” She asked, still trying to visualize the way the sunlight landed on his quads. Jack hummed in affirmation.

 “Golf team.”

 Larissa snorted. “We have a _golf_ team?”

 Jack nodded, careful not to shift position. “Intramural. Low-key, more of a club than a team.”

 “Cool.” They lapsed back into an easy silence. After several minutes of sketching, Larissa scooted over to find a new angle. As she began to draw Jack’s leg from the side, beginning with the (very impressive) curve of his ass, Jack laughed.

“What’s so funny?” She asked around the eraser that was gripped between her teeth. Jack grinned, a little sheepishly.

 “You drew me with a bubble butt.”

 Larissa rolled her eyes but laughed all the same. “You’re a _life model_ , buddy. I’m not drawing anything that isn’t there.”

 Jack smirked. “You’re much better at drawing my butt than my legs.”

 “Well,” Larissa said, raising a defiant eyebrow. “It’s _in my face_. Seriously, your ass is huge. You could give Kim a run for her money.”

 Jack frowned. “Who’s Kim?”

 “Kim Kardashian,” Larissa explained. Jack’s look of confusion didn’t change, so she added, “...from the TV show?” Jack shrugged. Larissa stared at him, eraser dropping into her lap. “Do you seriously not know who Kim Kardashian is?”

 Jack nodded. “Is she an actress?”

 This boy couldn’t be real. Maybe he was fucking with her? Or maybe he was a robotics project that had wandered away from the engineering building? 

"Not really," Larissa finally said. "It doesn't matter." 

They went back to their companionable silence and by the end of the hour Larissa felt like she'd definitely improved enough to not embarrass herself during her next sketchbook critique. Jack stretched as she packed up her art supplies, giving her one last appreciative look at his bubble butt, and rolled down his shorts. Larissa felt herself smile up at him.

 “Seriously, thank you for doing this. Let me buy you a coffee or something. You like Annie’s?”

To her surprise, Jack's face flushed a little and he looked down at his feet. “Oh, um, I don’t- you seem nice, _but_ -”

“Not as a date, ding dong." Larissa laughed. "You just posed for me for an _hour_ , I at least owe you a coffee.”

Jack seemed to relax, shoulders dropping, and he gave her a tentative smile. "Yeah, okay. That sounds nice." 

They didn't talk much over their coffee, but Larissa didn't mind. Jack was kind of an awkward guy but his quietness wasn't a part of that. 

"Could I draw you again?" She asked, picking at the cheap plastic of her coffee's lid. "Like, not right now, but maybe next week? I'd really like to not fail an art class, my parents would  _never_ let me forget it." 

Jack looked taken aback, but he nodded, mouth full of coffee. "Uh, yeah," he managed to say after he swallowed. "That would be- that would be nice." 

Larissa hid a smile behind her coffee cup. "Okay. Cool. Or, whatever."

Jack grinned.  

 

* * *

 

 

The hose was thrumming with pent-up pressure and Justin aimed the nozzle at the tree like a marksman taking aim. With just a _little_ bit of glee, he pulled the trigger.

“FUCK!” Naked Guy fell from the tree almost immediately, sprawled in a soaking, laughing heap. “ _Fuck_ , man, that was harsh.”

Justin turned off the hose and tossed it to the side, approaching Naked Guy slowly. “Time to go, dude,” he said, extending a hand to help the guy up. Naked Guy grinned and instead shook it, all cordial and shit. This dude was _weird_.

“Shitty Knight,” he said, and it took Justin a minute to realize that his name was _Shitty_ . This dude was _really weird._ “Rugby team.”

“Uh, Justin Oluransi.” Justin said, then helped pull Shitty into a sitting position. “Lacrosse team, obviously.”

Shitty hissed as he sat up, and for a moment Justin thought this was his reaction to the word “lacrosse,” until he saw the way Shitty was holding his arm.

“Dude,” Shitty said, voice a mix of incredulous and giddy. “You dislocated my shoulder!”

“Fuck,” Justin said, feeling panic creeping up inside. He needed to call an ambulance or campus security and maybe also a _lawyer_ and he was going to get suspended or expelled or-

“Dude,” Shitty said again, watching Justin with a calculating look. “Chill. It’s all good. I should’ve gotten out of the tree when you asked.” He touched his shoulder and winced. “Could...could you give me a lift to the hospital, though?”

Justin laughed. “Too drunk for that. Let me call you a cab.”

 _Sometimes life is strange_ , Justin thought to himself as he flipped through a Southern Living magazine in the hospital waiting room. _Sometimes life says, “Hey, you look like you would really benefit from ending up in the ER with a guy named Shitty who you nearly killed by literally hosing him out of a tree. It’ll build character.”_

“Whatever you say, Life,” he mumbled to himself. “You’re the boss.”

Shitty eventually came out with his arm in a sling and a huge grin on his face. "Brah," Shitty said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You didn't have to wait for me."

Justin shrugged. "I figured you'd need someone to call you a cab home." 

"Brah," Shitty said again, patting Justin on the face. "You're, like, the nicest lax bro I've ever met." 

"You're in the ER because of me," Justin said, slowly. Did Shitty hit his head in the fall, too? 

"Still the nicest," Shitty said with a yawn. "C'mon, wanna get breakfast? My treat." 

Justin knew he needed to get some sleep so he could study, but pancakes and bacon and coffee were  _exactly_ what he needed right now. "Dude, yes, please." 

Shitty let them wheel him out to the pickup area when their cab came, then directed the driver to take them to the nearest Denny's. As they dug into an impressive (and disgustingly large) feast, Shitty held his glass of orange juice up in a toast.

"And let it be know that on this day, a truce was formed between the kingdom of Shitty Knight and the lax bro wastelands."

"Bro."

"Shh, let me finish. To Mr. Justin Oluransi, for not calling the cops on me and for taking me to the hospital - though that was partly his fault to begin with - and to a new friendship! The greatest kind of ship there is, except for maybe Battleship, which is a fantastic board game. Long live friendship!"

Justin toasted with his coffee, utterly bemused by this guy he'd met only a few hours earlier. 

"Y'know, this is probably the best that's ever come from one of my tree-nights," Shitty said around a mouthful of pancake. 

Justin felt his eyes grow wide. "Are you saying this is a regular occurrence for you?" 

Shitty just shrugged and laughed. Justin groaned.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey!” Eric turned to see Adam running after him, a familiar brown jacket in hand. Eric suddenly realized how cold he was. Adam slowed down as he approached, holding out the coat. “You forgot this.”

“Thanks.” Eric pulled it on and dug around in the pockets for his gloves. But he’d forgotten them, of _course_ he had. He’d thought he’d be spending the night at Aaron’s, which was much closer-

“Dammit,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Adam gave him a confused look. Eric sighed, and explained, “I’m sexiled tonight. I didn’t think I’d be going home so I told my roommate he and his girlfriend could have the room tonight...it’ll be hours until they’re asleep…”

Adam chuckled. “Yeah, me, too. Let my roomie have dibs, thought I’d be at the party all night...”

Eric was taken aback. “Oh, no, please don’t let my...don’t let me interrupt your partyin’! I’ll be fine, I never walk around campus enough, and the snow sure is pretty-”

“You ever snuck into the pool?” Adam asked, cutting off Eric’s rambling.

“Uh, _no-_ ”

“Let’s go,” Adam said, clapping a hand on Eric’s shoulder. When Eric didn’t follow he turned and added, “The building’s heated.”

Breaking in wasn't hard - one of the women’s locker room windows was cracked open, so the boys slipped in easily. Security didn't patrol inside the building, so Eric and Adam strolled casually into the large, open room that housed the lap pool. Steam rose from the water in billowing clouds and Eric could feel the tips of his hair curling.

They sat at the edge of the pool, dipping in their feet. “Normally, I’d swim,” Adam said, glasses half-fogged. “But I’m pretty sure you’d freeze to death if you walked across campus with wet hair. You have, like, zero body fat. How have you not died yet?”

Eric shrugged, leaning back on his hands. He was still processing everything that had happened tonight, couldn’t think of some witty response to Adam’s quip.

Adam frowned. “Do you need to cry? Because I picked this place for a reason, there’s no one around to see. You can cry. Or talk. Or just sit. Whatever.”

"I just..." Eric took a deep breath, willing himself not to cry in front of Adam. "I love him - or, I don't know. He was my first boyfriend. The first person I could hold hands with in public, the person I ever even came out to!" He wiped angrily at the tears welling in his eyes. "Apparently I mean far less to him than he means to me." 

He was startled as Adam patted him on the back. "Do you want me to talk to him?" 

"Um." Eric didn't like the emphasis Adam put on  _talk_ , possibly inferring that it would include more punching than talking typically required. "No, that's okay. Thanks," he added, a bit softer. 

Adam squeezed Eric's shoulder and let his hand rest there. Eric had never met a straight guy who'd been so relaxed around him before, even at Samwell. It was refreshing, if not a little unnerving. 

"You know," Adam said after a moment, finally dropping his hand. "Aaro- that dick-head ex of yours mentioned you like to bake. A lot. Like, a ridiculous amount."

Eric felt his face flush. "Um, yeah. It's a hobby of mine." 

"You wanna break into the dining hall kitchen next?" 

Eric laughed. "Lead the way, Mr. Birkholtz."

Adam hoisted himself up and offered Eric his hand. Eric took it and let Adam pull him to his feet. Adam slapped him on the back again and gave him a warm look. "You'll be okay, Bitty, I promise. Aaron's an idiot."

 _Bitty,_ he thought to himself.  _What a stupid nickname_. But it made him smile anyway, so maybe it wasn't all that stupid. 

 


	2. before the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, y'all left such nice comments on the last chapter =) Sorry for the delay in this update, life's been crazy lately. I meant to get this out last weekend but then spent most of Saturday curled up in a hungover fetal position so, yeah, that didn't happen.

 

“You’re disgusting,” Bitty said, glaring at Adam. “How did you survive 23 years without me?”

They were sitting on the ("definitely diseased, oh my _God_ ") green couch Adam had found left on a curb. Bitty had abandoned his own protein bar to grab Adam's lunch. Adam snatched the plate back out of Bitty’s hands with an exaggerated look of petulance. “Please, like stuffing me full of pie is any healthier than how I eat on my own.”

Bitty huffed. “How long has that pizza been in the fridge, Adam?”

Adam shrugged. “You know what I always say, Bits: ‘If it’s mold-free, let me be.’”

“Disgusting,” Bitty hissed. “You’re worse than my daddy’s boys.”

“Oh, really?” Adam grinned and cracked his neck. “You wanna say that again?” He pulled Bitty into a headlock until Bitty’s face was all but smothered in his armpit. Bitty struggled, slapping at Adam’s arms, but to avail. (Adam had a lot of siblings, all of whom were, like him, big and obnoxious.)

Bitty slapped at his arms, playfully annoyed at first, but when the motion became frantic Adam let go. It was easy to forget that, as blonde as he was, Bitty was  _not_  a Birkholtz. Adam felt his stomach sink when he saw Bitty was shaking a little. 

"Dude, sorry," he said, drawing back. "I forget that it freaks you out."

Bitty drew a shaking breath. "It's not your fault, I  _know_ , logically, that you're not one of them, you wouldn't..."

"Dude, they hurt you. You're allowed to be scared." Adam frowned at his shoes. "Do you wanna hit me? You can, if you want." 

This drew a watery laugh from Bitty, who shook his head. "Lord, no, I'd just break my hand. Just..." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Let's run to Stop-n-Shop. I'm out of butter."

Adam grinned. "What's the pie du jour?" 

Bitty made a show of thinking hard as he collected his wallet and shoes. "Hmm, well I was  _thinking_ apple but I could  _probably_ be persuaded to whip up a blueberry crumble."

Adam's face lit up and he clapped his hands together as he did a goofy dance. "Bro, we've been roomies for, like, two weeks and it's already  _amazing_." 

Bitty rolled his eyes. "Give it another month and you'll be ready to get rid of me." 

"Pshh." Adam slipped his sandals on and followed Bitty out the door. "You cook and clean, Bits. I'm never letting go." 

Bitty wasn't entirely sure why Adam stuck by him after that disastrous acapella party last February. For a while he's suspected it was pity. Adam always claimed it was solely for the pies. But regardless of _why_ Adam kept coming back,  somewhere along the line a real friendship had bloomed. Now, against his better judgment, Bitty was rooming with Adam in an off-campus apartment.

He never thought this giant bro - any bro at all, ever - would become his best friend, but maybe the universe just had a weird sense of humor. 

  

* * *

 

The sun wasn't even up and the ice rink was empty. If Adam closed his eyes as he looped around, stick in hand, it was almost like he was playing again.

Adam winced as his knee twinged. He and Bits liked to go to open hours at Faber, though Bits could skate literal circles around him, and one of these days he was planning on convincing Bitty to teach him how to do lifts. But it had been too long since he’d run drills or even held a hockey stick. He ignored his knee and pressed forward, shooting a couple pucks into the back of the net.

“Oh.” A voice from the bleachers startled him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize the rink was booked.”

Adam looked up to see Jack _fucking_ Zimmermann standing awkwardly by the ice, gym bag slung over his shoulder.

Adam grinned. “S’not, that’s why I got my ass out of bed at this ungodly hour.” He paused, then nodded at the mess of pucks on the ice around him. “Wanna run drills with me?”

Zimmermann shrugged. “Sure.”

As Zimmermann pulled on his skates, Adam continued shooting at the goal. Maybe he could convince Bitty to come some morning with him and play goalie. He’d mentioned that he’d been the backup goalie for his team in high school, though it was 90% because he was one of only two people on the team who could drop into the splits on command.

Zimmermann skated up to him and watched as Adam finished off his pile of pucks. “You guys have a game this weekend?” He asked, his voice an uncomfortable monotone. Adam shook his head.

“Wouldn’t know, not on the team.” He gestured to his knee, though Jack couldn’t see the large, ugly surgery scars beneath Adam’s pants. “Played in the USHL for a while, busted my knee for good, now I’m here.” He cracked his neck and shrugged. “Making awkward small talk with Jack Zimmermann.”

Jack frowned and Adam was afraid he’d crossed a line. He could hear Bitty in his head, voice shrill with southern indignation:  _Adam Birkholtz, were you RAISED by WOLVES?_

“I’m sorry about your knee,” Jack said quietly. “It must’ve been hard to have to quit.”

That was certainly not the reaction Adam had been expecting. He shrugged again. “Yeah, but now I’m at Samwell. I don’t think I’d trade that just to play hockey again.”

Jack nodded seriously, looking like he understood.

(And of course he did - everyone who knew anything about hockey knew Jack’s story: famous NHL-playing, Stanley Cup-winning father, top draft prospect, tragic overdose, and then- gone. From the world of hockey, from the media entirely. He’d disappeared so quickly there were rumors he’d died that night and the Zimmermanns had hushed it up. But then Adam had come to Samwell and nearly wet himself seeing Jack Zimmermann walking across the quad. When Adam had called his teammate, Jonesy, to tell him he felt like he was reporting a Tupac sighting or something.)

They set up a few drills, nothing too difficult, but it was still fun to get back into the rhythm of it again. It was quiet, though, a little too quiet for someone as loud as Adam. He needed constant chatter in his ear. Bitty was good for that, talking a mile a minute about the latest Bittle family drama or about the cute guy in his English class.

“So what do you do around here?” Adam asked as they took a break, sitting on the bench nursing water bottles. “You’re not on the hockey team, I take it.”

Jack shook his head. “No, I couldn’t- I play golf. It’s...relaxing.”

“Cool,” Adam said. “I do acapella now. Less chance of getting checked,” he added with a chuckle. Jack almost smiled.

“Which group are you in?” Jack asked, sounding much less monotone now and more...human.

“The Wellodies, man. Best group on campus.”

“Do you know…?” Jack paused, searching for a name. “Jessica?”

Adam grinned. “Yeah, Jess is great. How do you know her?”

“I think she’s dating my friend, Larissa.” Jack shrugged, sighing a little. “Of course, Larissa won’t actually _tell me_ that they’re dating. She’s stubborn like that.”

Adam laughed. “Oh, man, yeah, my friend Bitty’s like that. He’ll go on and on about some cute guy who asked him for coffee but won’t actually tell me if he, like, said _yes_ . I mean, come _on_ , I want deets!”

Jack chuckled, ducking his head down. Adam considered it a personal victory, making Jack Zimmermann laugh. “Oh, and to answer your question,” he said, nudging Jack in the ribs. “I saw Jess on a date with some teeny, artsy-looking girl yesterday.”

“Heh.” Jack smirked. “Sounds like Larissa.”

Adam grinned. "Well, I'll have to get all the deets from Jess to tell you next practice, huh?" 

Jack smile faltered, and Adam wondered again if he'd crossed some sort of line. But then Jack was smiling again, more warmly, and he said, "Yeah, please. I need something to chirp her with." 

The rest of their practice was easier after that, the silence filled with idle chit-chat. When they parted an hour later, Adam had a promise to meet up the next morning and Jack  _fucking_ Zimmermann's number in his phone. It was hard not to giggle like a little kid. And based on the weird looks he was getting as he walked home, Adam suspected he might've giggled anyway. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey, dude, can some of my art friends come over?” Larissa asked, popping her head out from her bedroom. Jack could see craft feathers sticking out of her hair (freshly 'chopped,' as she liked to say) and shiny, gold paint splattered up her shoulder. Jack learned long ago not to ask questions when Larissa was in Art Mode.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking up from his book. “I can go to the library-”

Larissa stepped out of her room entirely, hands on her hips. “Or you could hang out with us.”

Jack shrugged, avoiding her eye. “I don’t really feel like hanging out tonight…”

The ' _or being sober around drunk people'_ hung in the air between them. Larissa frowned, noticing the tension in Jack’s shoulders and the line in his brow. “Bro.”

Jack didn’t look up, eyes focusing on the book in his hands. Larissa pulled out her phone and texted _sorry guys, not tonight_  before crossing the room and crawling on top of Jack.  

The paint on her clothes was mostly dry, and Jack probably wouldn’t have cared if it wasn’t. Larissa tucked her head under his chin and forced her foot into his hands, knocking the book to floor. He chuckled and started rubbing it, the callouses on his thumbs tickling her heel.

“Yeah, me neither,” she said. “Tim gets so handsy when he drinks, it’s annoying.”

Jack hummed in response, scowling a little. He didn’t like Tim, though he’d never said so out loud. She relaxed against his chest, pretty content with this alternative to getting schwasty with hipsters. A spot of white in the corner caught her attention and she smiled.

“Did you go to Faber today?” She asked, eyes focusing on the ratty skates that leaned against the wall. Jack nodded.

“Yeah, wanted to run through some things, get back on the ice.” He paused to switch feet, then added, “I made a new friend. We ran drills together.”

Larissa beamed up at him, pulling back a little to see the embarrassed flush on Jack’s cheeks. “Dude, no way. Hockey bro?”

He shook his head. “No, acapella kid. Uh, played before he hurt his knee. Adam.”

“Adam,” Larissa said. She grinned. “He cute?”

Now Jack was really flushing. Larissa laughed, poking him in the stomach. “You think he’s _cu-u-ute-_ ”

“No,” Jack said. “I mean. He’s, uh, not bad-looking. But. Not my type.”

 Larissa wanted to keep chirping but let it drop, nestling back against his chest. She reached up to pat his cheek in a way that meant:  _I'm glad you made a new friend._  

He sighed against her hair, and Larissa could feel his smile. Jack went back to rubbing her feet, turning all of his focus to the task. She let her eyes fall shut, suddenly sleepier than she'd realized. 

"The girls are throwing a party tomorrow night," she said. Jack hummed in response. 

"You don't sound excited." 

Larissa shrugged. "I love them but they have shitty taste in alcohol. Plus, half of them would be dead if I didn't chaperon. The other half would probably be in jail." She sighed. "As long as I get to destroy some bro's ego in flip cup I think I'll be good." 

Jack laughed softly. "I have complete faith in you."

"Thanks," Larissa said with a snort. "I assume you don't want to come?"

"When hell freezes over." Jack looked down at her, a little sheepish. "I mean-"

"No, yeah, I get it." She yawned, stretching out like a cat and very purposefully smacking Jack in the face. "I'm sure nothing'll happen. It's just a Haus party, right?" 

 

* * *

 

 Larissa took a sip of her drink, leaning back against the wall. They’d run out of good stuff a while ago, so she was stomaching boxed wine in the name of Getting Buzzed. None of her girls seemed to mind the taste, but she knew they also liked to listen to Nickelback in the locker room so clearly they didn’t have the best judgement.

“La-La!” March stumbled up to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“I still hate that nickname,” Larissa muttered.

“But it’s cute!” March sang, her own drink sloshing dangerously.

Larissa sighed. “You stole it from that reality show you and April binge-watched over the summer.”

March rolled her eyes with a dramatic huff. “Okay, one: Vanderpump Rules is a national treasure. And two: it’s still a cute nickname for the world’s best and teeny-tiniest team manager.”

Larissa laughed and shook her head. “I’ll never understand you girls,” she said.

March planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek anyway, grinning widely. “And yet you love us!”

“Mhmm, sure.” Larissa patted her on the back. “Go have fun.”

The party was pretty lame, if you asked Larissa. No one was playing pong, no one was doing kegstands, and the douche-bros weren't even interesting or fun to mock. It was turning out to be a pretty disappointing night. 

Suddenly, someone was grabbing her arm. She looked up (and up and up - _fuck_ this guy was tall) into the very wide and very scared eyes of a lax bro. He leaned down, and Larissa couldn’t tell if he was going to hit on her or start crying.

It turned out to be neither. “Is this house haunted?” He asked, barely audible over the pounding of the bass. Larissa raised an eyebrow.

“What?” She asked. The guy looked around, lips pressed together in a tight line, then leaned back in to shout in her ear.

“IS. THIS HOUSE. HAUNTED?”

What even was her life anymore? Between her stoner art friends, the wacky shenanigans of the volleyball team, and Jack “Has Never Interacted With Humans Before” Zimmermann, Larissa was not lacking in bizarre life experiences.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Larissa answered truthfully. Then she remembered some “house trivia” Farmer had rattled off at her once and she frowned. “Though I think a couple sorority girls died here in the 90s.”

She hadn’t realized it was possible, but Lax Bro’s eyes grew even wider. “ _What_?”

Before she could protest, Larissa was being dragged upstairs, past the yellow caution tape, and down to the end of the hallway where the sound from downstairs was a bit more muted. Lax Bro looked like he was on the verge of full-blown panic, so Larissa asked, “Dude, are you on, like, a bad trip or something? Should I call an ambulance?”

“Someone touched my butt,” he said.

Larissa sighed and wished that Jack liked parties. She needed someone who could help her silently mock this bro. “Um, like, without your consent? If it was one of my girls I can talk to them about it-”

Lax Bro grabbed her shoulders and said, very softly, “I was in the bathroom. Alone. Door locked. _And someone touched my butt._ ”

She couldn’t help it; Larissa snorted. “A ghost touched your butt?”

 Lax Bro huffed. "Yes! Are you not hearing me?"

"So...what exactly do you want me to do about it?" 

Lax Bro shrugged. "You...I don't know, you're all artsy-looking and wearing black - you seem like the kind of person who'd know how to communicate with the dead." 

Larissa wasn't sure if she was flattered or insulted, so she went with the former. She held out her hand. "Larissa. Art major. Never communicated with the dead before but it sounds like a riot."

Lax Bro shook her hand, twitchy only a little as a few girls shrieked downstairs. "Justin. Do you have a ouija board?" 

Larissa motioned to the empty space around her. "No. But if you find me supplies I bet I can make one." 

Justin's face lit up and he was down the stairs in seconds. Larissa called after him to meet her in the attic and climbed up to March and April's room to wait. The attic room was pretty large, especially since the girls had invested in bunk beds. Larissa plopped down on the fuzzy, red rug and pulled out her phone, tapping out a quick text to Jack. 

_dude im holding a seance in the attic of the volleyball haus cuz some drunk lax bro thinks a ghost touched his butt_

The response was, surprisingly, immediate. _Haha._

Larissa rolled her eyes. _Once more, with feeling_ _._

_Lacrosse players are weird._

Then, a second later: _Are you alone with him?_

Something warm bloomed in Larissa’s chest. For all his social awkwardness and emotional issues, her Canadian robot worried about her. _Yeah but it’s chill. Seems harmless. Just drunk._

There was a moment where she thought he might not respond, then: _if i don’t hear from you in 20 minutes i’m coming by the haus._

Larissa rolled her eyes. _okey doke cap’n worrywart_

Justin stumbled back into the attic, holding up a piece of cardboard. "Okay, found this in the trash, got some sharpies in my pocket. Oh, and a glass from the kitchen. You said you're an art major, right?"

"Hand it over, broski," Larissa said, holding out her hands. She pulled up a google image on her phone for reference and made quick work of the ouija board, even adding in the little sun and moon that decorated the spaces next to YES and NO. Justin watched her silently, curiosity mixing with the fear on his face. 

"Glass?" Larissa held out her hand, making a grabby motion. Justin passed it over and took a deep breath as Larissa placed it on the makeshift board. She placed her fingers on it and looked up at him expectantly. With a deep, steeling breath, Justin placed his hands on the other side. 

"Okay, so, like, is there a ghost here?" Larissa asked, because what was the point in trying to make small-talk with the dead? She had places to be and alcohol to drink.

Nothing. Then, the glass slid down to the bottom of the board, stilling as it passed over the 2. Justin started hyperventilating/

"Two?" Larissa asked. "Two ghosts?" 

The glass slid to YES and a cold breeze tickled the back of Larissa's neck. Giggling carried up from the party below, faint and distant. 

"Is that Britney Spears?" Justin asked, looking around the room. "Who's playing Britney?" 

Larissa snorted. "Dude, there's a party going on downstairs. Also, I'm pretty sure that's Taylor Swift, get with this century." 

Justin almost looked offending. "I  _know_ the difference. Can't you hear it? It's playing  _over_ Tay-Tay."

Then, downstairs, the music abruptly changed. T-Swift was suddenly NSYNC. "Bye Bye Bye" floated up the stairs into the darkened attic, grainy and ominous in a way Larissa would never have expected. She was almost certain April didn't have this on her iPod. 

"Okay, dude," Larissa said with a frown. "Stop trying to fuck with me, it's not funny." 

Justin cocked his head. "What are you talking about? I'm not doing that.  _You're_ the one pushing the glass." 

Larissa threw her hands into the air. "Am  _not_! You're the one who got your buddy to change the music or whatever."

There was more giggling from downstairs, though it sounded closer this time. Maybe it was March and April, playing a prank on her. Maybe they were hiding in the stairwell to jump out and scare her. 

 _I'm gonna get Coach to make them do extra laps on Monday_ , she thought.  _Asshats._  

"Well,  _I'm_ not doing it," Justin said, crossing his arms over his chest. "This house is haunted!"

"Stop," Larissa said. "If this is some weird prank or, like, pick-up technique I can tell you  _right now-_ "

She was cut off by the sound of glass scraping across cardboard. Justin met her eyes for a second, then they both stared down at the glass as it moved itself to the B. Larissa and Justin watched in stunned silence as it continued to O...O...T...Y...then stopped on the smiling sun Larissa had drawn wearing sunglasses.

"What..." Larissa could hear the giggling again, louder, like it was right in her ear, then the door swung open and Justin screamed. 

"IT'S THE GHOST OF JACK ZIMMERMANN!"

Larissa whipped around and sighed in relief. Jack was silhouetted in the doorway, somehow looking both intimidating and incredibly awkward. 

"Oh, thank  _God_ ," Larissa mumbled. She grabbed Justin's arm and plowed past Jack. "C'mon, Zimmermann, let's get the fuck out of here." 

The three of them spilled out onto the sidewalk, Larissa and Justin each clutching onto one of Jack's arms.  Justin looked more confused than scared now, unfocused eyes flickering between the Haus and Jack. "Wait, so you're  _not_ a ghost?" 

Jack shook his head, wrapping an arm around Larissa. She hadn't even realized she was shaking. "No, definitely alive and not haunting the volleyball house." 

Justin nodded, mind visibly processing this information. "So all those rumors-?"

Larissa felt a familiar burst of rage well up in her chest. "He just said he's  _alive_ , dumbshit. He didn't die at the draft or jump off a cliff or whatever the fuck the rumors say, he went to fucking college and moved on with his fucking life." 

Jack's arm tightened around her shoulders. "Larissa," he murmured. "It's fine." 

"Sorry," Justin said, holding his hands up in front of him. "I just, I was a big fan- Lots of rumors flying around- Uh, I'm  _glad_ you're not dead, man."

Jack gave him a terse nod. "Thanks. I guess." He turned to Larissa who was still fuming. "So, the house is haunted?"

Justin and Larissa exchanged a look. "Nope," Larissa finally said. "Ghosts don't exist." 

Justin nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Just our imaginations, eh?" 

Larissa snorted. "Yeah. Just the alcohol." She reached out and punched his shoulder, smiling a little. "You need help getting...wherever you're going?" 

"Nah." Justin grinned at her. "I'm in the lacrosse house, just down the block. Um." He gave them a little wave. "It was nice meeting you guys."

"See you around, Justin," Larissa said. Jack simply nodded at him as he retreated down the road. He kept his arm around Larissa's shoulder as they walked back to their apartment, face stony and unreadable. 

"Were you really that worried about me?" She asked as they paused at a crosswalk. "You must've left as soon as we stopped texting." 

Jack shrugged. "Lacrosse players are tools." 

Larissa rolled her eyes. "Well, thank you for rescuing me from the big, bad ghosts."

Jack raised an eyebrow that said,  _so there were ghosts?_

With a laugh and a shake of the head, Larissa mimed zipping up her lips. She could feel Jack's chest shake with silent laughter but he didn't press the subject. And for that, she was very grateful.

 

* * *

 

Shitty and Justin sat at their usual table in the back of the library, third floor. Or, Shitty sat at the table; Justin was curled underneath, quizzing himself with flashcards and rocking slightly. Shitty pressed his forehead against the hard, cool surface of the tabletop and groaned. 

"Brah," he said. "Rans."

Justin - or Ransom, as Shitty had started calling him shortly after he'd learned his high school hockey nickname had been Ranser - let out a whimper in reply. 

"Fuck law school," Shitty moaned. "Fuck LSATs." 

Ransom whimpered again. Ransom and Shitty balanced each other out well. Ransom was constantly at 100% or 0%, and Shitty was always a hundred different places at once. They often sprawled on the floor of the library in solidarity, cursing their chosen education tracks.

Today was no different. Shitty sighed and slammed his laptop shut. "We're geniuses, bro. So why the fuck are we doing this to ourselves?"

"Fuck if I know," Ransom whispered. "Can we drop out and join the circus?" 

"Hmm." Shitty nodded thoughtfully against the table. "Viable life choice. No tests, colorful characters, and they probably wouldn't make me wear pants. I'm in." 

"Oh, speaking of." Ransom pulled an envelope from his backpack and shoved them in Shitty's direction. "March and April  _may_ have convinced me to buy...a lot of tickets for the kegster this weekend." 

Shitty sat up a little. "Bro,  _tickets_? For a party?"

"It's for charity, I think," Ransom said. "Give 'em out to the rugby team or whatever."

"Cool." Shitty tucked the envelope away with his stuff. "So, you wanna wear our vests to the kegster?" 

Though he couldn't see Ransom's smile, he could hear it in his reply. "Dude,  _yes_. Oh my god. We worked so hard on those." 

"Matching shorts?" 

"Read my mind, bro." 

"Suicide pact if we don't get our shit done tonight?" 

"Signed in blood, obviously." 

Shitty chuckled. "Alright, Rans, calm down. Now you're just being melodramatic." 

He cursed loudly as Ransom pinched his calf. Half the library was staring at them. 

(The other half had learned long ago to just ignore Knight and Oluransi.)

(There was a reason the librarians stocked the third floor with headphones and disposable earplugs.)

 

* * *

 

It was midnight by the time Shitty dragged himself across campus, feeling like a goddamn zombie. He needed food, pot, and sleep - preferably in that order. The dining hall was closed,  _obviously_ , and Shitty had resigned himself to the lone pack of ramen he had left in his apartment when he was assaulted by the most heavenly scent that had ever graced the earth. He whipped around manically, following the scent like a bloodhound. Then his eyes narrowed in on wome blonde guy carrying a pie dish. Like a house cat cornering a canary, Shitty pounced. 

"Hey!" He sidled up to the guy, and  _fuck_ did the pie smell even better up close. " _Fuck_ ," he said. The guy startled a little and nearly dropped the pie dish. "Brah, I will give you all the money in my wallet for that pie." 

The guy was stunned into silence. He stopped walking, eyes growing wide. Shitty wondered if he'd approached this the wrong way, but  _fuck_ -

"Um," the guy said. "Actually, I promised my roommate some." The look on Shitty's face must have been tragic - because not getting some of that pie would be a fucking tragedy - so the guy offered, "But you can have a slice. For free!" He added, blushing slightly. "Lord knows there's enough pie in our apartment to last the week." 

Shitty felt his eyes grow wide in wonder. "There's  _more_?" 

Pie Guy nodded. "I'm...um...I'm in the baking club."

With the wail of a man who'd seen the gates of heaven, Shitty fell to his knees. "Are you an  _angel_ sent to bless us mortals with baked goods?" 

Several passersby stared at Shitty and Pie Guy's face had turned beet red. Okay, maybe Shitty needed sleep more than food at this point. He had descended into what Ransom had dubbed as his "crazy, sleep-deprived downward spiral."

"Would you like to come eat some pie with me and my roommate?" Pie Guy asked and Shitty could've kissed him.

" _Please_ ," he whispered. Pie Guy offered him a tentative smile and led him down the road to one of the university apartment buildings. Pie Guy chattered nervously as they climbed the stairs to the second floor, something about the crust not quite coming out right and strawberries going out of season. Shitty nodded politely, but his stomach talked more than he did, grumbling loudly every few seconds.

When they entered the apartment Shitty found himself face-to-face - or, really, face-to-chest - with one of the largest human beings he'd ever seen in his life.  _No wonder Pie Guy didn't mind inviting a stranger home,_ he thought wryly.  _His roommate's the fucking Hulk._  

"Yo, Bits," the guy called, voice hinting at somewhere in upstate New York, Rochester or Buffalo maybe. "Who's this guy?" 

"Oh!" Pie Guy - _Bits?_ \- set the pie down on the card table they'd set up next to the kitchenette and held a hand over his heart. Shitty was so fucking endeared by this southern belle, he could't even handle it. "I didn't even ask your name!" 

Big Hulking Roommate Dude narrowed his eyes. "Bitty, is this some weird sort of hookup? Did you literally pick up someone off the streets because you know I'd  _help you out_ if you're that desperate-"

"Oh, my God, Adam, shut up!" Bitty's face went bright red. "No, he offered to pay me for the pie but I'd already promised it to you so invited him to come eat some with us! _Why is everything always about sex with you?"_

 "I'm Shitty," Shitty said, sticking out his hand for Bitty to shake. "Shitty Knight. Not my real name but if I told you that then I'd have to kill you." 

Bitty chuckled. "I'm sure it can't be worse than  _Shitty_. I'm Eric, though  _this one_ calls me Bitty." 

"Adam," his roommate said. "And you're in for the treat of your life. Bitty's pies are better than orgasms." 

Bitty sighed and moved to cut into the pie. Adam moved around him to pull three plates from a cabinet. "Does your mind just live in the gutter? Have you ever had a clean thought in your life?"

Shitty barked with laughter. "What fun would that be?" 

"Chyeah!" Adam held out his fist and Shitty bumped it. Bitty rolled his eyes and muttered something about gross boys, but very carefully served three generous slices of pie. It was still steaming a little, the light pink filling oozing out of the crust. 

"Strawberry cream," Bitty announced proudly. "Haven't made one in ages, so I hope it's good." 

Adam rolled his eyes. "Like anything you make wouldn't be good." 

Shitty very gratefully took the plate that was handed to him and nearly cried as Adam passed him a fork. Tentatively, reverently, he scooped a bite from the very tip of the wedge and brought it to his lips. 

"Holy mother of God," he whispered. "I think I just had a religious experience." 

Adam was already done with his slice and cutting himself another. "Bitty's pies are better than sex, bro."

Bitty was beaming at him, his own piece untouched. "I'm glad you like it." 

Shitty couldn't help it. So overcome with bliss he pulled Bitty into a big bear hug, squeezing the kid tight. Bitty laughed but struggled a little. Adam eventually pulled Shitty away, frowning slightly. 

By 1:30 in the morning Shitty was slumped across the nasty, green couch that was squished into one corner of the apartment. He and Adam had demolished the pie, both proposing to Bitty at least twice. He'd learned that Bitty was from Georgia, loved figure skating and baking, and was  _hella_ gay. Adam was from Buffalo (called it), had the voice of angel, could quote any episode of 30 Rock ever, and was also hella gay. 

("Bi," Adam had corrected. "Got too much love to spread around." 

Bitty had rolled his eyes. "And by love you mean herpes?"

"Rude, Bits.")

 "Welp, this was amazing and I love you beautiful fuckers a whole lot," Shitty said, sitting up reluctantly. Adam was sprawled on the floor and Bitty was puttering around in the kitchen. "Let me make it up to you. The women's volleyball team is hosting a huge kegster this weekend and selling tickets as a fundraiser for the women's shelter across town. My buddy, Ransom, is friends with, like, all of the players so he bought, like, fifty tickets." Shitty dug around in his bag for the envelope and pulled two slips of paper from it. "You guys should definitely come, it's gonna be a disaster. I might even brew tub juice, though I've been told the team manager might yell at me if I try." 

Bitty and Adam took the tickets, Bitty's smile blinding. "Oh, gosh! This is so exciting." He turned to Adam, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. "This is the party Chris was telling me about. His girlfriend's on the team, oh, it's gonna be so fun." He looked back at Shitty, holding the paper tightly to his chest. "Thank you!"

Shitty waved him off. "Brah, I'd buy you a fucking pony for another one of those pies, for real. You should be selling that shit at Annie's or something." 

Bitty blushed a little and Shitty wanted nothing more than to tuck the kid in his pocket and carry him around forever. "Well, maybe I'll have to bring a few to the party." 

Adam boomed with laughter. "Please bring pies to the kegster, that would be amazing." 

Shitty shrugged. "I bet the volleyball team would appreciate it." He paused. "Or, you know, they would if I don't eat all the pie before they can get to it." 

They all laughed at that, and Shitty was sent on his way with a full stomach, a warm heart, and a ziploc bag full of cookies that Bitty had "whipped up" that afternoon. God, he hoped they came to kegster. 

God, he hoped they brought pie. 

 

* * *

 

Jack was asleep when Larissa barged into his room. He groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. 

"Zimmermann," she said, and Jack recognized her Very Serious Team Manager voice. It was eerily similar to his Overly-Intense Team Captain voice, though he wasn't sure who learned it from whom. "Jack, you have to go to a party with me this weekend." 

Jack groaned and turned his back to Larissa. "Go away, I'm sleeping." 

She poked at his head until she hit the ticklish part of his neck. He squirmed and she pulled the pillow away. "Jack, I'm serious. The team's throwing a kegster and it's gonna be an absolute shit show." 

"So?" Jack didn't like parties- or, really, he wasn't  _allowed_ to like parties. Not after...not after everything that had happened. "You're the reigning beer pong champ, you don't need me there slowing you down." 

"Jack." The edge of his bed dipped down as she sat by his shoulder. "I need someone to co-chaperon with me. Some of the frat bros got rowdy last time, I need someone big and muscly who isn't afraid to pull a fire extinguisher on them."

Jack sighed, knowing that she was going to win this. "You are perfectly capable of working a fire extinguisher." 

"I'm much less intimidating than Jack 'Can Bench-Press His Roommate' Zimmermann."

"Please." Jack snorted. "You're pretty intimidating." 

Larissa let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Please. I don't want those douche-bros messing with my girls." 

He wasn't well-acquainted with the volleyball team, but they had all been super nice to Jack when Camilla Collins had dumped him (and he hadn't realized it). He felt a surge protectiveness well up in him. Larissa's team was  _his_ team and no one messed with his team. 

"Yeah, okay," he said. 

He felt two small arms wrap around his shoulders. "Thanks, Jack," she whispered as she drew back. The Larissa was gone, the door to his room clicking softly behind her. 

A kegster was probably the last place in the world Jack ever wanted to be. But he'd get to watch Larissa kick some asses - beer pong opponents, frat douches, drunk idiots - and maybe he'd run into Adam and they could talk hockey. Which... _that_ wasn't something he'd ever imagined being able to do again. But maybe this was a turning point for him. Maybe he'd even let himself have a beer. He turned into his pillow, smiling a little bit. 

But nothing in the world could prepare him for the events that would transpire at Epikegster 2014. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter - epikegster! ...sort of. And a few more ~first meetings, though there's not too many left.


	3. epikegster 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go - epikegster 2k14. Who will meet? Who will fall in love? Who will be a huge friggin' ding-dong?

“HEAR YE, MY FELLOW WELLIES!” Shitty shouted. He was decked out in an American flag denim vest, standing precariously on the roof over the house’s porch, arms outstretched. Next to him stood a tall guy in a matching Canadian flag vest. Though the night was chilly, they both wore tiny shorts decorated with little, corresponding flags.

The tall Canadian grinned and shouted, “PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR EPIKEGSTER 20-FUCKING-14!”

The crowd exploded in cheers and catcalls. Shitty and his friend - Ransom, Bitty assumed - each shotgunned a beer and tossed the cans behind them, holding their hands up in the air in victory. Bitty rolled his eyes, then laughed as he noticed Adam’s wide-eyed gaze.

“I think I want to make out with that dude,” Adam said, eyes not leaving Ransom.

Bitty laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

Adam grabbed his shoulders, shaking him a little. “Bits, are you _seeing_ his abs? And his _cheekbones?_ ”

“Oh, my God, you’ve got it bad,” Bitty teased. “I will bake you a pie a week every week until you _graduate_ if you make out with him tonight.”

Adam’s face lit up. “Deal.”

They’d both been a little wary of coming to the kegster tonight, as excited as they had been - Bitty was still a little uncomfortable around athletes, even Samwell athletes, and Adam was hyper-aware of Bitty’s discomfort - but after they both had a beer in hand they relaxed a bit. Adam had lost sight of Ransom, but the night was young.

"Are you gonna pick up tonight?" Adam asked, waggling his eyebrows at Bitty. Bitty shook his head. 

"No, I don't think so." It had been months but Aaron's betrayal still stung a little. Maybe he should be over it by now. Maybe a hook-up would be good for him. 

"Bro, I could wingman you so hard." Adam took a swig of his beer, then flourished the can at Bitty for emphasis. "So. Hard."

"Thanks, hun." They'd had this conversation before. Bitty was a little tired of it, though he appreciated Adam's efforts. 

"Seriously, Bits, just tell me what your type is and I can get you sick D like  _that._ " Adam snapped his fingers. "C'mon, it'll be like 20 Questions."

"Fine," Bitty said with a huff. "But keep it moderately clean. I'm  _innocent_." He added the last part with a bat of his eyelashes. Adam laughed. 

"PG-13, I promise." They sat on the steps of the porch, next to the cooler of Natty Lite. "Tall or short?"

"Tall."

“Um, beefy or lean?”

“Weight doesn't concern me but I like a strong man.”

“Hmm. Top or bottom?”

“Either but I prefer to top.”

Adam smirked. “Am I your type, Bits?”

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Yes, because you're the only guy on campus who's tall, muscular, and a bottom. At _Samwell.”_

“I'm just saying, Bits.”

“Keep with the questions or shut up.”

“Um, okay. Top three favorites features on a guy.”

“Eyes, smile, ass.”

Adam barked with laughter. “I was gonna judge you for the first two but _damn_ Bits. Knew you were an ass man.”

“Okay, I'm done with this conversation.” Bitty pulled him up and they grabbed new beers before heading up the stairs. 

The pulse of the music hit them like a brick wall as they crossed the threshold. Adam caught sight of Jack Zimmermann as they entered the living room, crowded against a wall with some short girl. He was laughing at something she was saying, relaxed and open. 

He had very nice eyes. And a very nice smile. And a _very_ nice ass. Adam grinned.

"So, hockey," he said. Bitty looked up at him, eyebrow raised. "Hockey's a thing we have in common."

"Yes, along with a love of baked goods and reality TV." Bitty poked Adam in the ribs. "Are you suddenly confused by our friendship? Because let me tell you, I don't really get it either." 

"Let's talk about hockey," Adam said, eyes flickering back over to Jack. "Like, right now." 

Bitty looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Are you drunk?" He asked, then gasped and leaned in closer. "Did you pre-game  _without me?"_

Okay, so maybe he'd taken a couple of shots before the party. Bitty didn't like the hard stuff, so Adam had just taken a couple of pulls from the whiskey he had stashed under his bed. Bitty glared at him. "So, how about the Bruins this year, huh?" 

 

* * *

 

Lardissa bumped Jack's hip with her own, nodding over at a gaggle of volleyball girls in the corner. One - Farmer? A freshman, at the very least - was crying, and all the others seemed to be trying to comfort her.

 _Trying_ being the operative word.

"Looks like I'm needed," Larissa said, taking one long swig of her beer before pressing it into Jack's hands. "I'll be back."

Jack wanted to offer his help, but comforting crying frogs was _not_ in his list of chaperon duties. (He was, as Larissa liked to remind him, there to physically remove jackasses and give her drunker girls piggyback rides back to their dorms.)  

Then he noticed a familiar head of blonde hair, towering over the crowd. Jack waved, a bit awkwardly, and Adam waved back.

“Hey! Jack!” Adam rushed up to him with some small kid in tow. The kid was scowling up at Adam, though Jack could tell he was trying not to laugh. “ _Please_ explain to Bitty that I’m not _lying_ about nicknames and cellies and chirping.”

“What?” Jack raised an eyebrow at Adam.

The kid - _Bitty -_ huffed. “I don’t doubt that you had all those things in your little league team or whatever-”

“USHL, Bits, I _know you know that_.”

“-but there’s no way that nicknames are a ‘universal’ part of hockey!”

Adam huffed, almost exactly the way Bitty had a minute ago. “Just because ‘ _y’all’_ don’t have all that stuff in Bumfuck, Georgia doesn’t mean it’s not a thing in the rest of the world. Jack.” Adam turned back to him. “Back me up.”

Bitty looked up at Jack for the first time, looking unimpressed. “What, is he on the hockey team? Am I supposed to believe that one of _your_ friends wouldn’t help you mess with me?”

“Bro,” Adam said, staring at Bitty. “This is _Jack Zimmermann_. I think he knows a thing or two about hockey.”

Bitty continued looking unimpressed. “Adam, you don’t I don’t follow the school team-”

“Bits.” Adam clutched at Bitty’s shoulders, pulling their faces close together. Jack looked away, awkwardly. “He’s Bad Bob’s _son_.”

To Jack’s surprise, Bitty snorted. “Okay, now I _know_ you’re messing with me. No one in their right mind would go by the name _Bad Bob_. You’re so uncreative.”

Adam looked like he’d never been so betrayed in his life. “Eric _Richard_ Bittle, are you telling me you played hockey for _four years_ and _you don’t know who Bad Bob Zimmermann is_?”

Bitty turned to Jack, eyebrow raised. “Not to sound like a hypocrite, but why are you friends with this idiot?”

“ _Rude_ ,” Adam gasped. “I’m not making this up, Bitty,” he said, crossing his arms. “If you just googled it, you’d know I’m right.”

Bitty glared at him. “I _would_ if _someone_ hadn’t stolen my phone.”

Adam held up his hands in mock defense. “You were tweeting some very slanderous things about me.”

Jack cleared his throat awkwardly. Bitty looked back up at him, like he'd forgotten Jack was there, and blushed a little. It was very, very cute.

"Oh, Jack, bro, bee-tee-dubs, this is Bitty," Adam said, brandishing dramatically at Bitty. "Bits, this tall, muscular gentleman is Jack."

Bitty's blush darkened, though Jack wasn't sure why, but he offered his hand to Jack anyways. "Nice to meet you."

And,  _oh._ His handshake was firm and strong, like Jack's father had taught him when he was a teenager, but his hand was soft and slender, with hints of callouses on his palm. 

"It's nice to meet you, too," Jack managed to say. "Are you, um, enjoying the party?"

Adam rolled his eyes but Bitty laughed, holding his hand over his heart. "I'm having a ball. Are you the host for the evening?" He asked with a teasing look. 

"No, I'm the bouncer," Jack answered, smiling despite himself. "Larissa told me to stand here until she needs me to beat people up."

Bitty looked both impressed and a little taken aback. "Is that something that's... _needed_ at a volleyball kegster?" 

"I hope not," Jack said honestly. "But we've had problems in the past. It makes her feel better, knowing I'm here, so she can relax a bit more. I just want her to able to enjoy the party and for her friends to be safe." 

Jack would swear the air was knocked out of him as Bitty looked up at him with shining eyes. "That's sweet," Bitty said. "You, sir, are a true gentleman." 

Adam rolled his eyes again, but the look he gave Bitty was fond. "Hey, Bits, I see Derek over there, I'm gonna go say hello real quick." 

"Mhmm, okay." Bitty shoved Adam's chest a little. "Go bond with your son. I understand." 

"Okay, but if Derek's my son then Chris is yours," Adam argued. "You 'mom' him so much." 

Bitty huffed. "If you don't get your ass over there and play catch with your son or whatever I swear to God I will cut you off," he said. "I mean it. I will close the kitchen. I will let you starve-"

Adam planted a very loud and wet kiss on Bitty’s cheek. Bitty pushed him away, nearly knocking Adam’s glasses off. “Gross, get off of me you weirdo.”

Adam just winked at Bitty and sauntered off towards a group of hipsters. Jack felt disappointment well in his chest as Bitty turned to wave. 

"So, Jack," Bitty said, turning back to face him. "Be straight with me-" Jack nearly choked. "-All that stuff Adam was talking about...it  _is_ actually universal hockey stuff, isn't it?" 

Jack shrugged. "In my experience, yes." 

"And your dad-" Jack clenched his teeth, waiting for the same questions he'd heard all his life. "Does he  _really_ go by Bad Bob?"

This startled a laugh out of Jack. "Um, not so much anymore, but in his prime he did."

Bitty pursed his lips. "Please tell me he didn't give himself that name. Because it's terrible."

Jack laughed again. "No, you don't choose your nicknames in Hockey. You wanna know a secret?"

Bitty nodded and leaned in, his chest almost pressed up against Jack's. Jack ducked his head down, lips brushing against Bitty's ear. "A teammate gave him that nickname because his pickup lines were so bad."

"What?" Bitty laughed a little breathlessly. 

"Everyone think it's because he was a bad-ass or whatever," Jack said. "But it's really 'cause he had no game."

Bitty was laughing harder now, hand clutching at Jack's arm. And if Jack flexed that bicep a little, well, then, who was to know? 

"My mom says she went out with him because his smile made up for the bad line," Jack continued, reveling in the feeling of Bitty's body shaking with laughter. "But I think she found it charming. They both have  _terrible_ senses of humor." 

Bitty pulled back a bit, smiling brightly. Jack felt his heart leap into his throat.

"BITS! BITS!" Adam was back and shaking Bitty's arm. Jack took a step backward, putting a reasonable distance between him and Bitty. "BITS! Derek and that Poindexter kid are starting a game of chicken in the yard. We have to do it, we'd  _crush them oh my god._ " 

Bitty cast an exasperated look at Jack. "Hun, I think it'd be fairer to them if you played by yourself." 

"All's fair in love and chicken, Bits," Adam said. "C'mon, I need you on my team, you fight dirty and, honestly, I think you scare Derek a little." 

"Okay, okay, I'll play." Bitty turned to Jack and flashed a brilliant smile. "I'll see you later?"

Jack nodded. Adam and Bitty disappeared into the crowd and Jack was alone against the wall again. Larissa had disappeared, too, the gaggle of volleyball players long since dissipated. With a sigh, Jack trudged out to the front porch. If he couldn't talk to Bitty then he could at least watch what would probably be an amusing game of chicken. 

The game itself didn't last very long. It turned out Derek and Poindexter - two frogs who were both  _dwarfed_ by Adam - were far too belligerently drunk to actually get someone on someone else's shoulders. They mostly just argued while Bitty and Adam mocked them. 

Briefly, Jack considered going back inside, but the air was thinner and cooler outside, and it got so hard to breathe inside the Haus. Jack closed his eyes and let a breeze wash over him, calming his nerves.

There was a shriek from across the yard. Jack's eyes sprang open in time to see Adam pull Bitty into a fireman’s carry and start running laps around the yard as Bitty squawked and laughed. The familiar-looking mustache guy had joined them now, cheering Adam on with the two frogs. 

Out of nowhere, Larissa appeared at his side, nursing a solo cup of water. “Which one are you making heart eyes at?”

“Huh?”

Larissa laughed. “Dude, which of the blondes do you want to marry and have a hundred little Zimmerbabies with? Big or little?”

Jack didn’t want to dignify the question with a response but even the strongest of men would crumble under Larissa’s signature “I know more about you than you do” eyebrow quirk. “Little. His name's Bitty.”

“Ha!” Larissa stared at Bitty for a moment, then grinned. “He’s cute. Go talk to him.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s his boyfriend,” Jack said quietly, thinking back to that kiss. “Adam.”

“O-o-oh, _Adam_ ,” Larissa said, drawing out her vowels. "Even so. They're both cute. If you know what I mean."

Jack rolled his eyes. "You know I don't do that."

Larissa patted his arm softly. "I know, I know, Mr. Demisexual. Let me try a different angle - boyfriends don't last forever. You clearly want to get to know Bitty, so don't let his current relationship status effect that. Even if he and Adam, like, get married, that still could be a really special friendship you're not allowing yourself." 

Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Sometimes you're really smart, _La-La_."

"You ruined it," she said with a scowl. "We were having a perfectly good moment and you ruined it."

 

Jack laughed. "I'm gonna go get some water. You need anything?" 

Larissa shook her head. "Not yet. I'm kind of on guard duty right now, some shit went down but I'll text you if I need some muscle."

"Are you sure?" Jack didn't like the idea of Larissa confronting someone alone, as absolutely scary as she could be. Jack had been told once or a billion times that he was somewhat overprotective. It certainly wouldn't be his  _worst_ quality. 

"Go hydrate," Larissa ordered. "I'm gonna watch the future Mr. Zimmermann try to beat up the Jolly Green Giant. It's gonna be fun." 

Jack patted her on the shoulder once, lingering for a moment as he looked back at Bitty, then he slipped back into the chaos of the Haus.

 

* * *

 

After what felt like a million years, Adam set Bitty down in the grass. Bitty pouted up at him, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

"Want some water, Bits?" He asked, and given how much he was swaying Bitty considered himself _very_ lucky to not have been dropped. 

"Yes, please." Bitty rose, shakily. "You owe me at least that."

Adam laughed and stumbled back to the Haus. Bitty turned to talk to Shitty, but found his new friend preoccupied.  

Shitty was staring across the yard, jaw slack. "Brah," he said, nudging Bitty in the ribs. "Brah, who is  _that?"_

Bitty followed his gaze to the tiny woman who'd been hanging out with Jack earlier. Bitty shrugged. "Never caught her name. Why?" 

Shitty turned to him, eyes wide. "She just creamed that kid in flip cup and burped in his face for like a minute straight." He looked back at the girl, a goofy smile spreading across his face. "I think I'm fucking in love, man." 

"I think she's Jack Zimmermann's girlfriend," Bitty supplied, perhaps a little too bitterly. "She might be on the volleyball team, she seems to know everyone." 

Shitty's face lit up, clearly ignoring the part where she was someone's girlfriend. "I bet Ransom knows her! He's buds with all the volleyball girls. C'mon!"

Shitty dragged Bitty back into the house, shoving his way through the crowd until they were in a cramped kitchen. It was clearly underused, and a little gross, but Bitty was  _itching_ to bake in a place with actual counter space. He curbed this impulse, however, as Shitty steered him towards a group of people playing Kings at the kitchen table. 

"Rans!" Shitty called, arm slung around Bitty's neck. "Ra-a-ans, hey, bud, I need you to ID someone for me slash introduce me to the love of my life." 

Ransom, to his credit, did not look at all fazed at this. Instead he threw down his cards, waved goodbye to his friends, grabbed his drink, and followed Shitty and Bitty back out to the yard. 

"This is Bitty, by the way," Shitty said once they were outside. "He's the pie guy I was telling you about." 

"Ah, dude!" Ransom slapped Bitty on the back. "Those cookies you made were  _orgasmic_ , I swear!" 

He made the exact same exaggerated moan that Holster did when talking about Bitty's baking, and the thought of how similar they seemed made Bitty chuckle. "Thank you," he said. "I'm glad they survived long enough for you to get some." He shot a look at Shitty, who shrugged. 

"I see you didn't actually bring pie tonight," Shitty said, eyes narrowing as he scanned the lawn for Jack's girlfriend. "My heart's been crushed, man. I'm not sure I'll recover."

Bitty felt his face heat up. He'd contemplated bringing a few, and Adam had wholeheartedly supported the idea, but even after a year at Samwell Bitty still had  _some_ self-preservation. Jocks and frat boys liked to eat baked goods, but they also liked to torture the small, gay kid who brought them. He figured he'd deliver a few to the house in the morning as a thank you to the volleyball team. 

Luckily, Shitty didn't press the subject, though Ransom made a distressed sound at the idea that he  _could_ be eating pie right now and  _wasn't_. "There!" Shitty said, face lighting up again. He nodded to where the tiny woman was poking some lax bro in the chest, practically hissing at him. 

Ransom looked both delighted and distressed. "Oh, that's La-La!" He said, then grimaced. "I mean, Larissa. She hates that nickname," he added. "A-a-and that's Brian she's yelling at. Who I should probably send home." He leaned down so he was eye-to-eye with Bitty, a very serious look on his face. "You don't make Larissa mad. She's team manager and would probably kill any man who so much as looks at the volleyball team the wrong way." He laughed to himself. "She also has Jack Zimmermann wrapped around her finger. You mess with Larissa, you mess with  _him_." 

Shitty contemplated it for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I would let both of them do whatever they want to me."

Bitty let out a startled laugh, but Ransom just rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, right now let's worry about not letting them straight-up murder Brian. He's a dick but he's our best middy."

Ransom and Shitty strolled across the yard, quite a sight in their matching outfits and slotted sunglasses. Bitty hurried after them, snatching a Natty from the cooler on the steps of the porch. He wished he knew where Adam was, just so they could turn this into a drinking game. 

"Hey, Brian." Ransom did a cursory bro-nod at his teammate, arms crossed against his chest. "What's going on here?"

Larissa whipped around, looking ready to kill, but visibly relaxed when she saw Ransom. "Oh, hey. Your bro was just leaving,  _right_ _?"_ She directed the last part back at Brian, who scowled. 

"No, I didn't do anything-" 

Ransom cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Larissa. "What'd he do?" 

"He groped Farmer," she spat. "They weren't even dancing, he just goosed her as she passed. She's super freaked out now, Chris had to take her home." 

Bitty realized with a gasp that Larissa meant Caitlin Farmer, the sweet, baby-faced girlfriend of Chris Chow, his sweet, baby-faced study-buddy. No one deserved to be harassed by a creep like Brian, but Bitty would probably die for Chris and, by extension, Caitlin. Later he would blame the Natty Lite in his veins, but Bitty rose to his full five feet, six-and-a-half inches, fists clenching, drink dropping to ground, forgotten. 

"You  _what?_ " Bitty shoved past Ransom and Larissa, grabbing Brian by the popped collar of his polo shirt. 

"Uh," Brian said, mouth open and twisted in confusion. "Um."  

"I'm getting Jack," Larissa muttered, and she sprinted off in the direction of the house. 

Shitty and Ransom exchanged a look. "Ten bucks on Bitty," Shitty muttered.

Ransom shook his head. "Like I'd bet against  _that_." 

* * *

 

As jealous as he was, Jack was really enjoying talking with Adam. He'd run into him again in the Haus, both searching for water. They weren't even on the subject of hockey anymore, which was both surprising and entirely welcome. Adam was trying to describe some TV show about Rockefeller Center and Tina Fey and it was completely going over Jack's head but it was nice all the same. Adam didn't really seem to care that the conversation was 90% one-sided, he just rambled on and on about ridiculous plots and iconic one-liners.

"And so, of course, that now means I sing  _Midnight Train to Georgia_ every time Bitty threatens to drop out of school and live at home until he's forty. Which is, like, every time he has a paper due. He  _hates_ it." 

Jack chuckled at the image of Bitty scowling up at Adam to hide a smile. They really were sweet together, even if the thought of it made Jack a little sad. Still, he was grateful to have Adam as a friend, so he asked, "How long have you two been together?"

Adam cocked his head, brows furrowed in confusion. "Like, how long have we been living together?" Jack shrugged awkwardly. If that's how they wanted to measure their relationship then _sure_. "Um, not too long. Since the beginning of the semester. We met at a Valentine's Day party last year, and I kinda just never left him alone after that." He laughed, loud and booming. 

"Jack." Larissa was suddenly at his elbow, tugging on the hem of his shirt. "Jack, that tiny kid is about to fight a lax bro twice his size. I need backup." 

Her eyes flickered to Adam, taking in his size, and nodded. "Yeah, you too. Just in case."

She led them out onto the front lawn, where Bitty was shouting, "DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HER AGAIN. OR ANYONE. EVER. I WILL FIND YOU."

Then he started shouting something that wasn't English and Jack did a double-take. "Is he...is he speaking Russian?" He asked Adam, eyes wide.

Adam nodded, frowning. "Figure-skating coach. I'm pretty sure he only knows curse words." Then, after a moment. "Something's wrong. Bitty never yells." 

They approached, flanking Larissa on either side. Two bros stood behind Bitty, both looking too shell-shocked to move. Jack recognized Justin, a lacrosse player Larissa occasionally hung out with, and the mustachioed one looked vaguely familiar, but he wasn't quite sure if they were there to help Bitty or intimidate him. Either way, they were failing. 

"Bits." Adam approached Bitty slowly, hands outstretched. "Hey, bro, what's going on?"

Bitty turned, not relinquishing his grip on the lax bro's shirt. "He upset Farmer." 

Jack heard Adam suck in a gasp. "Chowder's Farmer?" 

Bitty nodded, then turned back to the bro. The bro seemed to have forgotten that Bitty was yelling at him, eyes trained on Adam. To his credit, Adam was cracking his knuckles demonstrably, a terrifying scowl replacing the look of concern.  

"It was harmless," the bro said, though he didn't sound very confident. "It's no big deal-"

"Shut the fuck up," Adam and Justin said at the same time. They looked at each other briefly, both a little surprised.

"I oughta sic Jack on you," Larissa hissed, jabbing her thumb in Jack's direction. Jack straightened, glowering at the bro. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on but Farmer was a sweet frog and anyone who upset her was clearly scum.  

"Get out of here, Brian," Justin said. "Or you'll be running suicides until you puke at practice on Monday." 

Brian mumbled something like, "Yes,  _Captain_ ," and scrambled away, barely ripping his collar from Bitty's grasp. 

"FUCK THE LAX TEAM!" Shitty shouted after him, then turned to Justin and said, "Except you, honey-bun. You're my favorite." 

Jack smirked, watching Brian stumble down the street and trip off the curb in his hurry. He held out a fist for Larissa to bump. She did, casting him a grateful smile. 

"Bits?" Jack looked back at Adam, who had very cautiously placed a hand on Bitty's shoulder. Bitty was shaking, fists clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white. "Hey, Eric, look at me." 

"I didn't leave Georgia for this shit," Bitty whispered through gritted teeth. "This is  _Samwell_. It's supposed to be a safe place." 

Adam didn't say anything, but wrapped his arms tenderly around Bitty's shoulders. Jack could see Bitty's body relax a little, his arms snaking around Adam's waist. 

"C'mon, let's go home," Adam said, voice low. Jack cast his eyes away, feeling like he was intruding on a private moment. "I'll watch the Food Network with you." 

"I'm fine, Adam," Bitty said, pulling away. His eyes flickered to Ransom and back. "Seriously. I can walk myself home. I know you want to stay."

"I can walk you," Jack said perhaps a little too quickly. "If- if you want." 

Bitty gave him a curious look, but smiled all the same. "Thanks, Jack."

Larissa shot him a look over Bitty's head, smirking a little. Jack ignored her and smiled back at Bitty.

"If you're sure, Bits," Adam said. He clapped Jack on the shoulder and said, "Take care of my bittiest bro, bro. He's very fragile and also will gut you with with a paring knife if you cross him, so..." And then Adam  _winked_ at him. 

"Uh." Jack cast a lost look at Bitty. "Okay?"

"Don't mind him," Bitty said, blushing a little. He waved at everyone. "Um, I'll see y'all around. It was nice meeting everyone."

Justin and Shitty pounded him on the back, which made Bitty grimace a little, and then Larissa stepped forward to pull him into a tight hug. "Thank you," she murmured, almost too quietly for Jack to hear. 

Bitty squeezed his arms around her briefly, then pulled away. He met Jack's eyes and nodded towards the sidewalk. "You comin'? You don't have to, if you want to stay here, I'll be fine- Not that I wouldn't appreciate the company-"

"Bitty," Jack said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Let's go."

Adam ruffled Bitty's hair one last time and waved them off. Jack led Bitty away from the Haus, feeling himself relax more the further away from the party they got. They walked in a companionable silence for a while, Bitty focusing on not tripping on the curb or falling over. 

"So what do  _you_ do, Mr. Zimmermann?" Bitty asked, looking up at Jack. "You're not in acapella with Adam, right? How did you two meet?" 

Jack was only a little disappointed that Adam hadn't mentioned him to Bitty. "Uh, we both showed up at Faber early a couple mornings ago, ran some drills together. He's a friendly guy." 

Bitty chuckled. "That he is. So you  _are_ a hockey player?" 

"Not anymore." Jack looked down, sighing. "I played when I was younger."

Bitty either didn't sense the dampening of Jack's mood or he ignored it. "Oh, me too! I mean, not as hardcore as Adam - or you, I'm guessing - but I was in a co-ed league in high school." He stuck out his chest proudly. "I was captain two years running." 

Jack smiled. "You're pretty small for a hockey player." 

"Oh, not you, too!" Bitty sighed dramatically. "There's a reason Adam calls me Bitty. And besides, I'm actually pretty tall for a figure skater." 

This piqued Jack's interest. "Oh, you're a figure skater?" 

Bitty nodded. "Mhmm. I mean, I haven't competed since middle school but I'm secretary of the Samwell Figure Skating Club." He shrugged and gave Jack a sunny grin. "My true passion is baking, however." 

"Baking?" Jack smiled. "Like, cakes and stuff?" 

Bitty almost looked affronted. "'Like cakes and stuff' - oh,  _honey_. You haven't lived until you've had one of my pies." He paused, laughing a little himself, and added, "Just ask Shitty. He more or less propositioned me in the street for a slice of strawberry cream." 

"Shitty?" 

"Oh!" Bitty laughed. "Ransom's friend, the one with God-awful mustache."

"Ah, okay." 

 Bitty paused, stopping outside an apartment building. He looked nervous, almost shy, and looked up at Jack from under hooded eyes. "Would you like to come up? For pie!" He added, blushing a bright shade of red. "We've got quite a few lying around the kitchen."

 Jack knew it was a bad idea, knew that it would only hurt to spend this time with someone who already had a boyfriend, but Bitty was like a tiny sun and Jack had been pulled into his orbit. He smiled.

 "Yeah, I'd like that." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I mean, if I haven't lived until I've tried one..."

Bitty's face lit up, and he fished in his pocket for his keys. They trooped up to tiny apartment chatting comfortably, Bitty swaying a little on the stairs, and Jack's heart sank in his chest as they entered the cramped living area.

Everything screamed of Bitty and Adam. The cinnamon air freshener masking the scent of sweat, the nice, red throw pillows on the hazardous-looking couch, the University of Georgia pennant hanging on the wall next to a Buffalo Bulls poster. Two pairs of skates leaned up against the back wall, one pair much larger than the other. 

"Unless Adam finished one off while I was at class," Bitty said, shucking off his jacket and tossing it over a chair. "Then we should have apple, peach, and chess."

"Chess?" Jack wasn't sure if they were even talking about pie anymore. 

"Oh, bless your Yankee heart," Bitty said, digging around in the fridge for a pie tin. "Buttermilk pie? It's more or less the same thing, just a different name." 

Jack leaned against one of the kitchen counters, watching as Bitty puttered around. "I'm not a Yankee, I'm Canadian." 

Bitty rolled his eyes. "That makes you  _extra_ Yankee."

"And I've never had buttermilk pie either, so I don't really have a point of reference." Bitty pulled two plates from a cabinet, and nodded to a drawer by Jack's hip.

"Could you get two forks from in there?" He asked, scooping out two slices of pie onto the plates. Bitty handed one to Jack with a shy smile, and added, "Well, now that you're trying  _my_ chess pie, you'll be ruined for all others. It's an old family recipe." 

The pie  _was_ good, though Jack was certain it was more or less pure sugar. He moaned a little at the first bite, and quickly scarfed down the rest. Bitty watched him, mouth open just a bit, his own pie untouched. 

Jack sucked at the tip of his thumb, cleaning off some of the sticky filling. Bitty quickly looked away, setting down his plate. "So, um, how is it?" He asked, busying himself with an electric kettle. 

"It was really good," Jack said, then wanted to smack himself for being so lame.  _Really good? What is this, kindergarten?_

Bitty lit up though, as if Jack had ranted and raved about the absolute perfection of his pie. "Thanks, Jack," Bitty said. Then he turned to pull two mugs from a drying wrack. "Tea?" 

"Please." Jack didn't drink tea. It was boiled leaf water and it tasted as such. But if he meant he could sit here and talk with Bitty, then he would probably drink sewer water. 

Bitty pulled a teabag from somewhere and tossed it in a small, yellow teapot. The kettle beeped and he chased the bag with hot water. Jack looked around the kitchenette - there were a few beer cans here and there, and he was almost certain that one of the cabinets was filled with only Sriracha bottles, but this was clearly Bitty's domain. 

Jack was shaken from his thoughts as Bitty set a steaming mug in front of him. "I hope you don't mind peppermint. I find it helps if I've been drinking." 

They moved to the nasty-looking couch, sipping at their tea and talking about classes. Bitty had yet to declare, but he was leaning towards American Studies. He seemed surprised by Jack's double major, History and Education. 

Jack shrugged. "After re- I took a gap year, before coming to Samwell, and during that time I coached a youth hockey team. I found I really liked being a mentor. And History is just because I've taken enough classes on my own to qualify for the major." 

Bitty smiled softly at him, chin resting on his knees. "I bet you're great with kids." 

Jack ducked his head. "I'm alright." 

"Oh, stop that!" Bitty poked Jack's thigh with his toe, hiding a smile behind his mug. "So what do you do, outside of classes?"

"Well, Larissa would claim that I spend most of my time scowling at people and lifting weights," Jack joked. "I'm captain of the golf team. It's honestly not very time consuming, but it's relaxing. Other than that, I don't do much." He shrugged. "I get roped into Larissa's art projects a lot."

"Oh, that's fun." Bitty cast his eyes down, staring intently at a hole in one of his socks. "Where did you two meet?"

Jack grinned. This was one of his favorite stories to tell. "Well, I was minding my own business, finishing up a run around campus, and this tiny little frog comes up and offers to buy me beer if I let her draw me." Bitty let out a startled laugh, prompting Jack to continue. "Apparently she needed to learn how to draw legs and I looked like I wouldn't annoy her too much." He leaned back against one of the throw pillows, taking a sip of his tea. "Drew me with a huge ass. I was a little offended." 

Bitty laughed again. "Did she at least buy you that beer?" 

"She was eighteen!" Jack shook his head. "So, no, but she bought me coffee, which I think I preferred." 

"That's such a cute way to meet," Bitty said, almost wistfully. 

"What about you?" Jack asked, gesturing around the apartment. "Where did you and Adam meet?"

"Oh!" Bitty looked a little taken aback by the question. "Oh, well, my ex was in his acapella group last year and we met at a party. He..." Bitty trailed off, staring sadly over Jack's shoulder. "He helped me get through a hard time. And we've kind of been joined at the hip ever since." 

"Oh." They both fell into silence, drinking their tea. 

Jack was surprised by how much he wanted to kiss Bitty. But Larissa was right - this was a friendship he wanted to cultivate, and kissing someone in the apartment they shared with their boyfriend after having only known them for a few hours was probably a good way to kill a friendship before it even began. 

Instead, Jack found himself say, "You and Adam should come skate in the mornings. I'd love to see some of your figure skating moves."

Bitty smiled warmly. "Yeah- yeah...that would be nice." 

Jack did not leave with a kiss that night, nor any of the more inappropriate things he found himself wanting. But he  _did_ leave with a phone number, a Tupperware full of pie, and a wide, goofy smile on his face that wouldn't fade until morning. So that was something.

 

* * *

 

Back at the Haus, the party was raging on.

"I hope Bitty's okay," Adam said, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

Ransom laughed softly. "I'm sure Jack is taking  _good care of him_ , eh?" 

They met eyes and burst into giggles, bumping their shoulders together like little kids telling a dirty joke. Larissa rolled her eyes and looked Shitty up and down, appraising him.

"I bet I can beat you at flip cup," she said, hands on her hips. 

Shitty looked like he could die of happiness then and there. "Bring it on, Teeny-Tiny."

They raced off, shouting for March and April to join them. Ransom and Adam turned to each other, shrugging a little. 

"Bro," Adam said, nudging Ransom in the ribs. "Wanna make out?" 

Ransom grinned. "Chyeah!"

Adam beamed and wrapped his arms around Ransom's waist. "'Swawesome." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Jack's a huge ding-dong, he doesn't actually remember Holster telling him about bugging Bitty about cute guys. Nor could he tell that the apartment was a two-bedroom. Because he's a huge ding-dong. Cue my FAVORITE TROPES, miscommunication and mutual pining! Yay!
> 
> At least Ransom and Holster have their shit together...ish....
> 
> Also, this chapter turned out WAY more Jack/Bitty heavy than I was anticipating...oops....


	4. after-party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not super happy with this chapter (and I maaaay be drinking right now) but I really just want to move on with this fic so I’m posting it as is. Might go back and edit later, probably won’t. From where this chapter has landing I’m estimating either one really long final chapter or two normal-sized chapters to go. Thanks to everyone who’s left kudos and comments! :)

Adam was having a great night - or, morning, technically. He and Ransom were, like, drift compatible or something, and probably would've made it to third base if March hadn't kicked them out of the attic. 

(“Dudes, April and I  _ live _ in this room, don't you fucking dare desecrate my space like that.”)

When they stumbled back down into the kitchen of the Haus, Shitty was more or less passed out on the table. Larissa force-fed him water in little sips, like a baby bird, and drew intricately-detailed dicks on his arm with a sharpie while he slurred and mumbled happy-sounding noises. 

Ransom cast Adam an apologetic look and hoisted Shitty’s arm around his shoulder. “C’mon, bro, let’s sleep this off,” he said. 

“M’I cock-blocking you?” Shitty asked, unfocused eyes flickering to Adam. 

Ransom laughed. “Only every day of my life, man. That rank ‘stache chases all the men away.” 

“Don't hate on the porn ‘stache, bro.” Shitty let himself get pulled upright, and he waved at Larissa with a dreamy smile. 

To Adam’s surprise, Larissa waved back, the tips of her ears reddening in a blush. “Later, bro,” she said, smiling. The grin Shitty returned was blinding. 

“You heading out?” Adam asked her as Shitty and Ransom left. Larissa shook her head. 

“I always crash at the Haus after kegsters,” she said. “Make sure the team survives in one piece.” 

Adam felt a little guilty as he watched her fill up a few glasses of water for her girls. Here he was, hoping that she and Zimmermann would break up so Bitty could tap that beautiful Canadian ass, while she was such a cool bro. Maybe she was into Shitty. Or,  _ wait- _

“You're dating Jess, aren't you?” He asked, a memory coming back to him. “Jack mentioned something about that.”

Larissa shrugged. “We went on a date, but I don't think either of us was feeling it. Plus, I know she's holding out for one of her friends who graduated last year, and I'm not cool with being a rebound or a time-killer or whatever.” 

Adam nodded in understanding, excitement welling up in his chest. He had to get home and tell Bitty! Or he needed to kill time and not get home because Bitty had already figured it out. Or he could just  _ text _ Bitty-

“So you and Justin, huh?” Larissa asked with a smirk. “I know he likes ‘em tall but I never thought he'd find someone  _ taller  _ than him.”

Adam grinned and looked down at his feet. “That's what I'm here for, everyone’s tall guy needs.”

Larissa laughed. “Speaking of, can you grab the Advil from that shelf? March and Farmer like to put things up high to fuck with me.” 

Adam bumped up behind her and grabbed the bottle with ease. The tips of her short hair barely reached his collarbone, and Adam laughed at how little she looked trying to snatch at the Advil in his hand. 

“You're the tiniest person I've ever met,” he said. “And I live with  _ Bitty _ . It's in his name.” 

Larissa scowled up at him. “Not my fault you're a freak of nature.” 

He laughed again and gave her the bottle. “Though I guess you're used to it, hanging around with Zimmermann.”

“Somehow, he's not nearly as obnoxious about it as you,” she retorted with a sickly sweet smile. 

“I’m hurt, dude,” Adam said with a laugh. “Feelings  _ obliterated. _ I will never be happy again.”

Larissa rolled her eyes but gave him a fond smile. “Oh, no. What have I done?” She deadpanned, tucking the Advil into her pocket.

“So, Ransom’s single, right?” 

It took Larissa a minute to jump from Justin to Ransom, but when she did she flashed Adam a knowing smirk. “If I had more energy,” she said, gathering up the water glasses for her girls. “I’d definitely leave you hanging for, like, ten minutes, just to watch you squirm. But I’m beat, so  _ yes _ , he’s single as far as I know. Otherwise you probably shouldn’t make out with him again.” 

Adam laughed. “You got me there. Just figured I should check.” 

“Probably smart,” Larissa said around a yawn. “Okay, bro, I need to crash. Get out of my Haus.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Adam said with a salute. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

Larissa grinned. “Definitely. You and Bitty should come hang out with me and Jack some time.”

“It’s a date,” he said and promptly let himself be shooed from the Haus and down the street. 

Adam was dead on his feet by the time he rounded the block to his apartment. He couldn't help the excitement that welled up in his chest when he spotted Jack Zimmermann coming down the sidewalk, holding a Tupperware of pie and grinning softly. 

“Zimmermann!” He called, waving enthusiastically. “Bro, high five!” 

Jack met his high five with little enthusiasm and much confusion. He didn't look incredibly rumpled, to Adam’s disappointment, but he also looked embarrassed, which meant Bitty had gotten  _ somewhere _ . 

“See you  _ later,”  _ Adam said with a wink as he passed by. 

“Um, goodnight?” 

Adam took the stairs two at a time, bursting into the apartment with a grin on his face. “Bits, my  _ man,  _ you  _ dog-” _

Bitty was passed out on the couch, curled up on those ugly red pillows he'd gotten at IKEA. Adam smiled, a little disappointed Bitty was fully clothed, but grinned and vaulted over the back of the couch onto Bitty’s abdomen. 

“JESUS!” Bitty woke up with a yelp, hands slapping at random parts of Adam’s body. One well-placed slap hit his face and knocked his glasses askew. “Birkholtz, what in the deep-fried  _ hell?” _

“Bitty Bits, I have news for you!” Adam sang, snuggling against Bitty’s chest now that he'd stopped his hitting. 

Bitty grinned. “Did you make out with Ransom?” 

All thoughts of Jack Zimmermann left his mind as the memory of following Ransom into the bottom bunk of the attic bedroom came back to him. He smiled drunkenly and nuzzled against Bitty’s collarbone. “Yes,” he finally said, hiding his dopey smile. “It was ‘swawesome.” 

He could feel Bitty’s soft chuckles against his face, and after a moment Bitty sighed and ran a hand through Adam’s hair. “So what pie would you like for this week? I believe you've won a bet.” 

Adam hummed to himself as he thought. “Honey peach.” 

Bitty scratched the top of his head a little, the way he liked it. “And will you be sharing this pie with Ransom?” 

Adam sighed. “I don't know. We got interrupted and I never asked for his number.”

“Well, it's not like Samwell’s a huge school,” Bitty said after a moment. “And it's not like we don't have  _ Shitty’s _ phone number.” 

Adam felt himself light up. “You're right! I'll see him again.” 

Bitty laughed. “Of course you will. Now, as  _ you  _ would say, give me the deets.” 

 

* * *

 

Around noon the next day Bitty tentatively entered the volleyball Haus, pie tin in hand. The place was a mess, though he could hear the telltale sounds of garbage bags rustling and empty bottles clinking to know that post-party cleanup was underway. 

He slipped into the kitchen and placed the pie tin on the counter. On top he set a note addressed to Farmer, hoping that was enough to make sure it found its way to her eventually. 

“Hey.” Bitty started and turned around, suddenly face-to-face with Larissa. “Bro, is that pie?”

Bitty nodded. “It's for Caitlin, I thought she could use something sweet after last night. And I wanted to apologize-”  _ For wanting to kiss your boyfriend. “- _ for overreacting last night. I hope it didn't cause any more trouble for you.”

Larissa smiled up at him. “Bro, you were kickass last night, don't worry about it. If you hadn't gone off at him I would've had Jack do it.” She nodded towards the pie. “Also that's a really nice gesture and all, but I can't honestly guarantee it'll last long enough for Cait to get here.” 

Bitty cast his eyes down at his feet. “And here I thought this was a household of  _ ladies.”  _

Larissa snorted with laughter. “Yeah, right, dude.”

“Well, at least tell her I tried,” Bitty said with a weary laugh. “I can always bring more.” 

Larissa grinned at him. “You’re sort of awesome, dude. This pie smells fuckin’ amazing.” 

“Why, thank you,” Bitty said. “I do the best I can in my tiny kitchenette.” He glanced around the kitchen enviously. “I’d kill for this kind of counter space, though.” 

“Dude,” Larissa said, hands on her hips. “If you keep making us pies like this, you can use this kitchen any time you want. Sometimes we bake cookies, but the most that ever really gets made in here is mac n’ cheese and microwave burritos.” She laughed a little. “Because the athletes of the Samwell Women’s Volleyball Team take nutrition very seriously.” 

Bitty gasped in excitement. “Are you serious?” 

“I wouldn’t joke about baked goods,” Larissa said with mock solemnity. “No, seriously, come over and bake whenever. The girls would love you for it.” 

It was official: Bitty could not hate Larissa. He wanted her to be mean or obnoxious so he could be jealous sans guilt, but instead she was fun and generous and Bitty found himself wanting to be her friend. “I’ll definitely take you up on that offer,” he said, almost shyly. “I could do so much damage in a kitchen like this.” 

Larissa smiled at him. “Please do.” She paused, like she was choosing her next words carefully, and then said, “Jack likes apple pie. Or anything with maple syrup, the walking stereotype that he is. You know…” She winked at him, smirking a little. “If you’re interested.” 

Now Bitty was just confused. Was she asking him to bake something for her boyfriend in exchange for using her team’s kitchen? “Oh! Well maybe I can combine the two,” he said, clapping his hands together in excitement. “A maple-apple pie- ooh! I’ll have to search Pinterest.” 

“Sounds delish,” Larissa said, peeling back the foil on the pie tin. “Dude, is this chocolate pecan?” 

“Yup!” Bitty replied, popping the “p.” It was his mother’s favorite recipe, and the first pie she’d make when the weather turned cool back home. “I hope y’all like it.” 

“Bring it in, dude,” Larissa said, arms outstretched. “You’re, like, a literal angel. C’mere.”

She wrapped him in a hug that was comically different from the hugs Bitty was accustomed to getting from Adam. Larissa stood on her tip-toes to get her arms around Bitty’s neck, squeezing him tight, and it was sort of a relief not to be crushed in her grip. 

“I forgot what it’s like to be the tall person,” Bitty said, resting his chin on her shoulders. “Now I know why Adam’s always so smug.” 

Larissa poked him in the ribs and pouted. “We were having a moment.” 

“Sorry,” Bitty said with a grin. “Let me bake you something to make up for it?” 

“Bro,” she said, punching him on the arm. “Motherfucking  _ deal _ .”

 

* * *

  
  


Shitty had been blowing up her phone all week. Once he’d recovered from his hangover, he’d been a nonstop chatterbox, texting her about anything and everything on his mind: pictures of baby goats he found on Facebook, the douchebag next to him in his 9 AM lecture, Ransom’s increasingly worrisome study habits, Bitty’s pies, the limitlessness of the universe. It was amusing, really, and interesting. Shitty was a weird dude, but Larissa found she was very fond of him.

He’d started calling her Lardo. For a hot second she’d been offended, but once he’d explained how he derived it from her full name and how he gave nicknames to everyone he liked, she’d been okay with it. It rolled off the tongue a little more easily than Larissa, and it had an edgy uniqueness to it that she appreciated. 

_ Somehow _ , they ended up planning a party for Saturday night. It was more that Shitty had planned it for her, at her apartment, but he and Ransom were bringing as much booze as they could scrounge up and were trying to convince Bitty to come, so it’s not as if Lardo could say  _ no _ . 

“Hey, so I'm having people over this weekend,” Larissa said as she wandered into their apartment. Today she was sporting a charcoal-up-one-arm, glitter-in-the-hair look. Jack didn't comment on it. He had learned long ago never to question what happened at the art studio. “And by  _ I  _ I mean  _ we.  _ Shitty more or less invited himself and Ransom over, but he's bringing booze so I'm not complaining.”

Jack sighed. He liked Shitty and Ransom as well as he could like anybody he met at a kegster, but he'd honestly hoped for a quiet weekend in. “I don't know if I'm really up for that…”

Larissa gave him one of her more terrifying smirks. “Oh, did I forget to mention we invited Adam and Bitty too? Because we did.” 

Jack sat up a little straighter. “You've been texting with Bitty?” 

Larissa laughed, throwing her head back, and glitter fell from her hair to the carpet. “I love that  _ that's  _ what you took away from this. No, Zimmermann, Shitty’s been coordinating with Bits. If you want his number you're gonna have to ask for it yourself.” 

“I...might already have it…” Jack said slowly, dread growing in his chest as Larissa’s eyes got wider and more elated.

“Bro,” she said, flashing him a Cheshire grin. “ _ Bro _ .” 

“He gave it to me last night,” Jack said, looking away. “I haven’t texted yet or anything, but-”

“You should!” Larissa cried, crawling over him to perch on the couch next to him. “Did I tell you I ran into him the other day? After the kegster? He brought a  _ pie _ to the Haus to cheer Farmer up. He  _ baked her a pie _ .” 

Jack smiled at his hands. “Yeah, he’s in the baking club. Really passionate about it.” He cleared his throat and said, a little louder, “That was very kind of him to do that for Farmer.”

Larissa looked like she was going to die from excitement, her artsy, cool-kid vibe totally lost as she grinned up at him and said, “Dude, you are  _ so fucked _ .” 

Jack groaned and buried his face in his hands. It had been a long time since he’d felt this kind of pull towards another person, but  _ of course  _ he’d develop a big, fat crush on the kind, peppy baker  _ with a boyfriend _ . 

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled as Larissa patted his back. “I’m aware.” 

 

* * *

 

The party -  _ small gathering _ \- was going well. Larissa and Jack had a decent supply of fancy, craft beer in their fridge, Bitty and Adam brought a box of wine and a plate of brownies, and Shitty and Ransom hauled in a backpack filled with what looked like half a dozen half-empty handles of cheap liquor. Larissa had ceded music duties to Bitty, who had about five different party playlists on his phone, so the mood in the room was upbeat and happy. Ransom nursed a cup of sketchy-juice-and-something-stronger, trying to keep up a conversation with Jack while Adam danced just behind them, wiggling his ass to the beat. It was  _ very distracting _ . 

Bitty, Larissa, and Shitty were all arguing about some Fro-Yo place on campus, debating flavors and toppings, and Bitty made a snide comment about gummy worms that had Adam booming with laughter. His voice was so deep and loud and Ransom couldn’t help but wonder what he would sound like in a more  _ intimate _ setting. Would he be just as loud, or would he go completely silent, for once unable to find words? Ransom was  _ dying _ to find out. 

Ransom excused himself from his conversation with Jack and dashed down the hallway, ducking into the bathroom to splash water on his face. 

Ransom knew he was bisexual. He’d known for years, had come out to his family, and had even gone to Pride last year with Shitty and some of their friends. But he’d never felt  _ this _ kind of attraction to, well,  _ anyone _ before. It was all a little overwhelming. 

With a sigh, he leaned against the sink, rubbing at the back of his neck. In a way, this possibly-budding-romance bubbled between his ribs like his anxiety did, constricting his lungs and twisting in his gut. But there was a lightness to it, a sort of hopeful giddiness that made him feel like he was ten years old again and asking Katie Mcintyre’s friends if she had a crush on him. (She did and they kissed on the playground and it was every bit as exciting and new as his attraction to Adam.)

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Adam stood in the doorway, frowning in concern. Ransom gave him a small smile.

“Yeah, sure, just needed a break. I can only listen to so many Taylor Swift songs before I get weepy and emotional,” he joked. Adam chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that made Ransom’s knees weak. 

“So, about the kegster,” Adam said, eyes cast down at his feet. “I, uh. Had a good time. With you.” 

Ransom grinned, face growing warm and pulse speeding up. “Yeah, me too.” 

Adam moved closer, pushing off the doorframe and very cautiously ducking into Ransom’s space. Their lips met briefly, no more than a soft peck, and Ransom pulled back. 

“So, you and Bitty…?” He hedged, scratching the back of his head. “Like, not that I think you’re cheating on him or anything, but am I a rebound? Or, like, something…?”

Adam’s eyes widened as he realized what Ransom was asking. “Oh, you mean, am I pining for for Bits? Bro, no. Bitty’s my best bro and, like, the world’s greatest roommate, but  _ nah _ .”

Ransom felt himself smile, shy and tentative, which was alien for someone as comfortably outgoing as him. “So…?”

“I like you, dude,” Adam said, cheeks flushing pink. “I, uh. A lot.”

“Me, too,” Ransom said, his heart feeling like it might explode with giddiness. He cleared his throat and gave Adam a sheepish look. “I’ve never actually dated a dude before. Haven’t dated much in general, but, I don’t know, is it different? With dudes?”

“I don’t know,” Adam admitted. “I had a girlfriend in high school and had a fling with a dude in Juniors but…” He shrugged. “Dating’s not my area of expertise. I guess we’ll figure it out.” 

“Yeah.” Justin looked up at Adam, unable to hide his goofy smile. “I guess we will.” 

 

* * *

 

Jack felt rage well up in his chest, white-hot and overwhelming. He’d left the others to grab his phone from his room and watched as Adam and Ransom murmured to each other in the bathroom, far too close to be considered platonic.

Adam’s hand lingered at Ransom’s waist, a subtle flush spread across his cheeks. Ransom leaned forward to murmur something in Adam’s ear and Jack could feel his hands shaking. 

“Adam!” Bitty called from the living room. “Get your butt in here and defend my honor!” 

Ransom and Adam sprang apart, chuckling awkwardly. “I, uh.” Adam nodded towards the doorway. Jack slank around the corner and hoped they hadn’t noticed him. “I better go see what he’s screaming about.” 

Before he could see anything else incriminating, Jack stalked back into his living room, hands shoved into his pockets. Maybe Adam was just a handsy guy and  _ wasn’t _ flirting with Justin. Maybe Adam and Bitty had an open relationship. Or maybe Jack needed to have a  _ talk _ with Adam…

“Jack!” Bitty cried, face lighting up. “Save me!” 

Larissa - who was now willingly responding to the name  _ Lardo _ , God help her - was burping directly in Bitty’s face, arms raised in victory. Shitty was on the ground, laughing so hard that his face had turned red and tears were falling from his eyes. 

“Oh, no, that’s a sign of respect,” Jack said mildly, biting back a smile. “It’s an honor belch.”

“Y’all are nasty,” Bitty said with no real malice. “And  _ really _ good at flip cup.” 

Lardo smirked. “Should’ve seen the time Kent Parson came to town. Kicked his ass.”

Bitty shrugged, looking a little lost, but Shitty gasped dramatically. “You beat Kent Parson at flip cup?” 

“And pong. And Kings. And in life in general.” She cast a quick look at Jack, smirk faltering for a second. 

Though not  _ terrible _ , things between him and Parse weren’t  _ great _ . Kenny could never understand how Jack just  _ gave up _ on hockey, desperately wanted Jack to join the Samwell team if only to get him back on the radar, to move to Vegas and reunite the Zimmermann-Parson dynamic duo. Larissa - Lardo - knew all of this, knew when to drag Kenny away and force him to play pong with her, knew how to mediate when things got tense. For that, Jack was immensely grateful.

“Did I hear Kent Parson?” Adam asked as he reentered the room. Ransom followed on his heels. 

“Bro, we talking about Parse?” 

Bitty shot Jack a look. “Is he...a hockey player?” 

Some of the tension in Jack’s chest dissipated and he grinned. “Yeah, captain of the Las Vegas Aces. We played together in the Q. Still friends, most of the time.” 

Bitty nodded but did not press the issue. Adam and Justin were now discussing the chances of the Aces making the Cup finals this season, which wasn’t a conversation Jack was unfamiliar with, but still made anxiety twinge in his chest. 

“So, how’s golf going?” Bitty asked, suddenly standing much closer than before. He smelled like boxed wine and vanilla extract and some sort of spicy cologne; it was intoxicating and Jack felt a little light-headed. 

“Oh, um, good. We’ve got a good group of guys this year, really focused on the game. We’re co-hosting a campus-wide tournament in a couple of weeks with the women’s team.” 

Bitty grinned up at him, tapping the rim of his cup against his lips. “That sounds fun.”

“You should come,” Jack said quickly, staring into the depths of his own, mostly-untouched cup. “There’s a five dollar entry fee, and all the proceeds are going to the food bank.” He cleared his throat and hoped he did not come off as awkward as he felt. “It’s for a good cause.” 

“Well, if it’s for a good cause,” Bitty parroted with a teasing grin. “I’ve never played golf, though. Maybe I could just bring snacks for the competitors?” 

“I could teach you,” Jack offered. “If you want.” 

Bitty beamed. “That would be great!”

“Ugh, guys, this so great,” Ransom said, slinging an arm around Adam’s neck. “We should hang out, like, all the time.” 

Everyone murmured in agreement, filled up with wine and brownies. A warm sort of fatigue had settled over the group. 

“My friends and I are meeting up for free skate tomorrow,” Bitty said, touching Jack’s arm lightly. “Y’all should come.”

Ransom hummed in consideration. “I don’t know, I should probably study for my exam on Wednesday…” 

A strange look passed over Bitty’s face. “Adam’s coming with me, aren’tcha hun?” 

Adam, who had been listing against Shitty, eyes fluttering closed, sprang into awareness. “Uh, duh! Wouldn’t miss it!” 

Ransom beamed at him, and Jack scowled. “Yeah, bro, I can totally free up a couple hours. Haven’t skated in ages.” 

“I’ll go,” Jack said softly. Bitty looked up at him with a huge smile.

“Oh, please do,” he said, rubbing his thumb against Jack’s bicep. “It’ll be a lot of fun!” 

“I don’t skate,” Lardo said, frowning a little. “But I like chilling in Faber and heckling Jack, so I guess I’m in.” She missed the look of excitement and adoration Shitty gave her, but Jack didn’t. He smiled softly, casting a glance at Lardo. She deserved someone who looked at her like she was the sun, as weird as this Shitty guy was. Maybe Jack would ask the guy to get coffee or something, determine just how gone he was for Lardo. 

“Oh, this is just gonna be so fun!” Bitty exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Adam snorted and rolled his eyes. Jack stepped closer to Bitty, as if he could shield him from his boyfriend’s derisive attitude. 

“Bits, you’re so peppy when you drink,” Adam said fondly. “Like a little cheerleader.” 

Bitty laughed and clapped some more, kicking his leg almost straight into the air. Jack couldn’t help but stare in awe. 

“Go team!” Bitty shouted, giggling like mad. Lardo and Ransom catcalled him, and Shitty whistled with his fingers between his teeth. 

From It devolved quickly into Shitty, Ransom, and Adam trying to form a human pyramid for Bitty to climb, everyone just on the wrong side of tipsy for it to be a good idea. By the end Adam was hoisting Bitty onto Shitty’s shoulders, everyone laughing and shrieking as Shitty spun in circles. Lardo and Jack watched the group in quiet amusement, sipping on their own drinks and hoping they didn’t lose their security deposit. 

“Fucked,” Lardo murmured to him, mouth twitching into a half-smile as Shitty began serenading Ransom with a song that seemed to only be comprised of the phrase, “Fuck the LAX team, except for you.” “You’re totally fucked, man.” 

Jack raised an eyebrow, looked at Shitty, then looked back at Lardo. “No,” he finally said, voice low. “ _ We’re _ totally fucked.” 

Lardo snorted and took a sip of her drink. “Amen to that, Zimmermann. Amen to that.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely want to focus on group dynamics more in the next chapter, and I DEFINITELY want to get more Jack&Shitty action. Maybe some Ransom & Bitty too. We'll see :)
> 
> Come find me on tumblr at [eve-baird](http://www.eve-baird.tumblr.com)


	5. free skate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, guys, I apologize, I know it’s been over a month since the last update! I think we’re getting close to the end, only one or two more chapters maybe.

“Jack, honey,” Maman said, smiling at him from the laptop screen. “Who on Earth is blowing up your phone like that?”

Jack ducked his head, biting back an embarrassed grin. “Oh, just the guys.”

“Sure,” Papa said, smirking a little. “Whatever you say.” 

“Hey, bro,” Lardo -  _ dammit _ if that name wasn’t catching on - stuck her head through the door. “We’re out of, like...food. I’m gonna run to Murder Stop n’ Shop, do you need anything?”

“Larissa!” Alicia called out. “It’s good to see you!” 

Grinning, Lardo crossed the room and flopped onto Jack’s bed in front of him, taking up the full view of the webcam. “Hey, Mrs. Z, Mr. Z. Long time no see.”

“How have you been, sweetheart?” Maman asked, smiling fondly at Lardo. Jack suspected she would adopt Lardo if she could, since Jack had made it very clear that she would never have her as a daughter-in-law. “Keeping my boy out of trouble?” 

“Of course, Mrs. Z,” Lardo said, nudging Jack in the ribs. “He’d probably be in jail if it weren’t for me, he’s such a handful.” 

“You’re so embarrassing,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. Maman and Papa laughed.

“Larissa, while you’re here,” Papa said, casually enough that it made Jack nervous. “Maybe  _ you _ know whose texts keep making Jack smile like that.” 

Lardo played dumb, casting a look back at Jack. “Like what, Mr. Z?” 

“Oh, you know,” Papa said, waving his hand in a vague gesture. “Like he’s a teeny, tiny bit in love?” 

“ _ Papa _ ,” Jack hissed. Lardo smirked up at him and Jack knew it was all over. 

“Oh, you mean  _ Bitty _ ?” She asked, turning back to face the webcam. Maman and Papa leaned forward, as if to hear her better. “You  _ must _ be talking about Bitty.” 

“Bitty, eh?” Papa asked. “Tell us more about this... _ Bitty _ .” 

“Lardo,” Jack whispered, scowling a little. “Larissa, I swear to God-”

“How does one begin to describe Eric Bittle?” Lardo began, completely ignoring Jack. Jack groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Well, he’s a damn good baker from Georgia, cute as a button. Played hockey for a while-” Both she and Maman rolled their eyes. “-and was a figure skater growing up. And Jack’s got a hu-u-uge crush on him, the end.” 

“Jack!” Papa grinned cheekily at him and Maman was glowing with pride. 

“Honey, that’s wonderful.”

Jack shook his head. “He’s got- he’s just a friend. Really.” He glared at Lardo, who shook her head at the webcam. 

“Sure, Jack. A  _ friend _ .” She winked at his parents. “How often do you two text?”

“That- that’s unimportant,” Jack hissed, but he could hear Maman gasp. It was a running joke in his family that Jack didn’t even  _ know _ how to text. He preferred to call people, sue him. Tone was hard to interpret through text, and sometimes he got anxious that people were mad at him if they didn’t respond quickly. “Anyway, what about you and Shitty?” 

Jack felt triumphant when Lardo’s face grew pink. “Shut up,” she mumbled, kicking him lightly in the ribs. Alicia raised an eyebrow. 

“Please tell me that’s a hockey nickname,” she said with a wry smile. Jack nodded. “Oh, Larissa, I never imagined you’d be silly enough to fall for a  _ hockey player _ .” 

Jack and Papa made similar sounds of protest and indignation, but Lardo simply laughed. “He plays rugby now, and not very seriously. He’s going to law school next year,” she added shyly. “Wants to ‘change the world’” 

Alicia’s smile softened. “Now that sounds more like you, sweetheart.” 

Lardo beamed at her, and Jack’s desire to shove her off the bed lessened. “Thanks, Mrs. Z. Oh!” She smirked at Jack and added, “Did I mention Bitty’s short and blonde?”

Papa laughed at this, shaking his head. “Son…” 

“Papa, don’t,” Jack groaned, burying his face in his hands. 

“I’m sorry son,” Papa said gravely, shaking his head. “I always knew you’d inherit my name and love of hockey...but I never thought you’d inherit my ‘type!’” 

“I don’t have a type!” Jack protested, flustered. 

“Three for three, bro,” Lardo said with a wicked grin. “That’s a type.” 

Jack gave in and shoved her off the bed. Through the tinny sound of his computer speakers, Maman and Papa laughed. 

* * *

 

 

When Jack got to the rink, there were about a dozen people on the ice already. He spotted Adam on the other side, gliding along the side of the rink at a lazy, relaxed pace. Shitty was pulling on his skates on a bench and Lardo made a beeline for him, smacking Jack on the arm as a goodbye. Jack set his bag down on a seat and watched the skaters speed past until he caught a glimpse of familiar, golden hair. 

Bitty was gliding backwards, laughing brightly as another guy chased after him on hockey skates. But even backwards Bitty was faster, more graceful, weaving between the other skaters without even needing to look. Jack’s first thought was that Bitty must’ve made an excellent forward on his club team back in Georgia. Jack’s second thought was that he desperately wanted to see Bitty figure skate. 

Jack’s third, and least attractive thought, was more of a wave of confused jealousy as the guy chasing Bitty got close enough to grab Bitty’s hands. Bitty let out a small shriek of surprise, then beamed even wider. The kid - and now that Jack could see his face he knew this guy couldn’t be older than 18 - held onto Bitty with a goofy grin. Bitty picked up his pace, dragging them both into the center of the ice where he began twirling them in circles. 

Something in Jack’s chest softened when he saw the look of pure joy on Bitty’s face. He was being stupid and possessive and jealous, like he’d been with Parse, like he’d been with  _ hockey _ . Bitty was dating Adam and clearly loved spending time with this friend and maybe one day he’d look that happy around Jack, too. Maybe he’d laugh like that when Jack taught him different golf strokes. 

Bitty let go of his friend and spun off, nearly colliding with Adam. Adam grinned and looked like he was chirping Bitty, who blushed a little. Adam looked up and nodded in Jack’s direction. Bitty followed his gaze and met Jack’s eyes with a small smile. 

Jack pulled on his skates and went out to meet them. Bitty waved at him, smacking Adam on the chest as he whispered something in Bitty’s ear. 

“Jack!” Bitty said, voice as bright and clear as his smile. “This is my friend, Chowder! I think you know his girlfriend, Farmer.”

“Oh, you’re Chris,” Jack said, sticking out his hand for Chowder to shake. “Yeah, Caitlin talks about you a lot. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Chowder’s eyes grew wide and he stared up at Jack in awe. After a beat he grabbed Jack’s hand and shook it enthusiastically, beaming widely. 

“Oh, wow, it’s an honor to meet you,” Chowder said, looking at Bitty and then back at Jack. “When Bitty told me you were meeting up with us I thought he was joking! Not that Bitty would lie about something like this, he’s  _ not like that _ .” Now Chowder looked panicked, like he’d irreversibly tainted Jack’s opinion of Bitty. “But- I mean-!” 

Bitty patted Chowder on the shoulder. “Chris, hun, it’s okay.”

Jack turned to Bitty, hands in his pockets. “You're pretty fast. Bet you were a terror to d-men everywhere.”

To his immense satisfaction, Bitty blushed a deep shade of red. “Oh, stop,” he said with a small smile. “I was more of a terror to the county bake-off than anything.” 

“Y’all should race,” Adam said, poking Bitty in the side. 

“Y’all?” Chowder asked, giggling a little. Adam groaned. 

“Jesus, Bits, you’re really rubbing off on me.”

Jack knew if Lardo wasn’t off flirting with Shitty, she’d have made some sort of dirty joke. Instead, Jack’s own treacherous mind flashed through several half-formed images: Adam pressing Bitty up against the boards, Bitty straddling Adam on their ugly couch, the two of them in some vague locker room, peeling off each other’s pads and underclothes the way Jack and Kenny often had-

He cleared his throat, pushing those thoughts aside. “I’d like to see how fast you can go. That is,” Jack added, smirking a little. “If you can keep up.” 

Bitty grinned up at him, something sharp and intense in his gaze. “Oh, honey, you have no idea.” 

“Al _ right _ ,” Adam said, loud voice echoing through the rink. “Line up, mofos. First person to make it back here wins. And by person I mean Bitty. Sorry, Zimmermann,” he added with a wink. “At least you’ll have a nice view.” 

Bitty yelped as Adam smacked his ass, and kidney-punched him more out of instinct than anything. Adam grunted but kept laughing. 

Chowder pulled a Kleenex from his pocket and held it up like a flag. “On your marks,” Adam said, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. Bitty looked over and Jack and grinned, something confidence and dangerous that Jack hadn’t expected from the mild-mannered baker. 

“Get set,” Adam continued, stretching each vowel. There was a tense, quiet moment, and then he shouted, “GO!” 

Bitty shot off like a bullet from a gun, a red and blonde blur ahead of Jack. But Jack caught up quickly, dodging other skaters with cries of “On your left!” and “Pardon me!” Ahead of him, he could hear Bitty doing the same. They reached the first turn at the same time, and Jack brushed past Bitty as he inched ahead, tugging gently on his sleeve. Bitty laughed and grabbed Jack’s hand. 

For a moment, Jack’s mind went blank, so focused on Bitty’s grip that he didn’t even realize that Bitty was using his arm to slingshot forward and send Jack sliding back. As Bitty shot ahead, he looked over his shoulder and winked. 

Jack couldn’t even be mad. So he laughed instead and pushed forward, determined to catch up. 

Just as Bitty was approaching Adam and Chowder - and Ransom, who’d appeared while they were gone - Jack put everything he had into a burst of speed, arms outstretched in front of him. Bitty crossed Adam’s imaginary finish line, but Jack didn’t care - he gently checked into Bitty, one arm curling around his waist, and spun them backwards so he took the brunt of the hit when they rammed into the boards and slid to the ice. 

They were both panting and laughing hysterically, Bitty’s head falling back to rest on Jack’s shoulder as he gasped for air. Chowder rushed over to make sure they were okay. Bitty waved him off, assuring him between breaths that everything was peachy. 

Jack was a little disappointed when Chowder helped Bitty to his feet, pulling him away from Jack, but then Bitty was turning and offering his hands to Jack. Jack let Bitty pull him upright, and if he held onto Bitty’s hands a little too long afterwards then Bitty didn't seem to mind. 

In that time, Adam and Ransom seemed to have gotten into a wrestling match, both wobbling on their skates dangerously. Bitty rolled his eyes but smiled fondly at Adam. 

Maybe Jack was biased. Maybe he wanted Adam to be a cheating bastard so he could swoop in and be Bitty’s knight in shining armor (which: yikes). Maybe he could still vividly remember a time when rough-housing on the ice led to waking up tangled in Kenny’ sheets. Maybe it was all of those things, but there was something  _ more _ there between Adam and Ransom. Jack recognized the way Adam’s hands lingered a little too long on Ransom’s waist, the way Ransom deliberately dragged his hand across Adam’s chest. Anger welled in his chest. 

“Oh, goodness, those two,” Bitty said, hand over his heart. “I hope this means Adam stops manhandling me every chance he gets.”

Jack’s anger was replaced with confusion. Bitty didn’t notice, though, and smiled up at Jack shyly. “I could go for some cocoa, how ‘bout you?”

“Oh, um.” Jack couldn’t even  _ remember _ the last time he’d had hot cocoa. “Yeah. That sounds good.” 

Chowder had skated off with two boys Jack vaguely recognized from Epikegster - Derek and Poindexter? - so Jack followed Bitty alone, skating off the ice and hobbling over to one of the benches where Bitty had stored his gym bag. He sat down and patted the space next to him, then pulled out a large thermos. 

“Homemade?” Jack guessed, bumping Bitty’s shoulder with his own. Bitty laughed and shook his head. 

“No, no, just Swiss Miss. And extra marshmallows, of course.” The lid of the thermos doubled as a cup, and Bitty poured out a generous amount before handing it to Jack. Bitty took a sip straight from the thermos and hummed contentedly. 

The cocoa itself was nothing special, but sitting there with Bitty, sharing the drink and chatting comfortably warmed something in Jack’s chest. He wanted to do this forever, if Bitty’d let him. 

“I thought Lardo wasn't going to skate,” Bitty said, cutting himself off in the middle of some story about his Aunt June and jam. Jack looked up and followed his line of sight. 

Shitty was skating backwards, pulling Lardo along with both hands. She looked uncomfortable but not unwilling, which-

Jack had tried  _ once _ to teach Lardo how to skate. It was not an experience either one of them wanted to repeat. Slowly, he grinned. 

“That’s new,” was all he said in response to Bitty. Bitty laughed and poured more cocoa into Jack’s cup. 

Eventually Lardo made Shitty drag her back off the ice, and the two of them joined Jack and Bitty on the bench. Lardo commandeered both the cup and Bitty from Jack, leaving him and Shitty to make small talk. 

Lardo and Bitty quickly got into an intense conversation about some Food Network show they were both obsessed with, so Jack took this time to study Shitty carefully. The guy had a easy friendliness about him, wide smile and relaxed demeanor. His hair, though long and wild, was as impeccably groomed as his bushy mustache. Shitty honestly looked like one of those hipsters Lardo always complained about, but there was something so genuine and open in his eyes that Jack decided he finally understood why she was drawn to the guy. 

“So, I was thinking,” Jack said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Maybe you’d wanna get dinner with me some time?” 

Shitty’s eyes widened. Lardo and Bitty were too wrapped up in their conversation to notice. “Brah,” Shitty said slowly, glancing between Lardo and Jack. “Are you...are you, like...asking me to turn your bicycle into a tricycle?” 

“What?” Okay, nope. Jack didn’t get this guy at all. 

“Like, I’d say yes,” Shitty said. “Obviously. But I want to be clear.” 

_ Say yes to what? _ “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Bicycle?” 

“Y’know.” Shitty motioned between Jack and Lardo. “Bicycle,” he said, stretching out the word. Then motioned from Lardo to Jack to himself, and then back to Lardo. “Tricycle.” 

When Jack realized what he was asking, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole in the ground. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I mean, there’s no bicycle. I just...if you and her are gonna...be a bicycle? Um, I just wanted to get to know you. And talk- um. Talk about your  _ intentions- _ ”

Shitty started cackling, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Oh, my god, are you gonna give me the  _ shovel talk _ ?” 

Jack wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said, “I don’t understand about half the things you say.” 

Shitty slapped his arm a couple times, still laughing. “It’s all cool, brah. Yeah, let’s get pizza this weekend or something. You can grill me about my intentions with your daughter, and I can grill you about your intentions to hop on the Big n’ Bitty Blonde Bicycle.” He leaned in closer and whispered, conspiratorially, “I dunno if they’ll let a brunette into the club, bruh.” 

Jack sighed, casting a quick look at Bitty. “Please don’t.”

Shitty slapped his arm again. “Bad joke, sorry, man.  But I’d love to hang out. Anyone who’s a bro of Lardo’s is a bro of mine.”

This made Jack smile softly; Shitty was clearly very gone on Lardo. “Alright, sounds good.” 

“Bros!” Adam and Ransom wandered over, back in their tennis shoes, bags slung over their shoulders. “I’m so fucking hungry, who wants lunch?” 

“I’m down,” Shitty said with a shrug. Bitty and Lardo nodded in agreement, as did Jack. After bidding farewell to Bitty’s hockey friends - the three freshmen, Jack learned, were all hockey players, because hockey seemed to haunt Jack everywhere he went - the group wandered out into the sunlight and headed for the dining hall. 

A little bit of jealousy sparked in Jack’s stomach as he watched Adam ruffle Bitty’s hair. Bitty looked up at Adam with fondness and exasperation -- and Jack realized just how much he wanted that look to be directed at him. He gritted his teeth and willed the ugly feelings away. 

They crossed the river and Shitty jumped up on the railing of the bridge, wobbling alongside the group. Lardo laughed and told him not to be an idiot. 

“I’m not fishing you out of the river!” she shouted as he started running along the railing. Bitty gasped and held his hand to his mouth. Ransom and Adam laughed hysterically, but Jack was mostly just impressed with Shitty’s balance. “If you drown it’s your own damn fault!”

Shitty made it to the other side of the river and jumped from the railing, immediately falling to the ground. Lardo laughed and ran over to check on him, but when she leaned over he pulled her down next to him. They both laughed and grinned like fools, Lardo still shouting at him for being reckless. Bitty relaxed now that Shitty was off the bridge, shaking his head with a small smile. 

Jack hadn’t seen Lardo be this openly silly or happy in the entire time he’d known her. In the privacy of their apartment, she’d be goofy with him and wander around covered in paint and try  to make meals using ramen and puffy Cheetos, but in public she was Larissa - confident, cool, and always dressed in black. 

“Those two,” Bitty said, looking up at Jack with a grin. “Can’t take them in public, can we?” 

Jack grinned back, bumping his shoulder against Bitty’s. “Like bulls in a china shop.”

Shitty dragged Lardo to her feet and looped his arm through hers, leading the group down the path to the dining hall. Hair mussed and eyes bright, Lardo smiled openly. 

Jack wished he had his camera to take a picture of her like this. But maybe, he realized with a jolt of happiness, maybe with Shitty, with this new rag-tag group of friends...maybe this would be the new normal for Lardo. 

Bitty knocked against him gently to get his attention, holding up his phone to show Jack a picture of some kittens his friend Will had agreed to foster. Jack took the phone and let Bitty coo and gush over the kittens, something warm settling in his gut, and he realized that maybe this would be the new normal for him as well. 

It was a nice thought, and it kept him smiling all through lunch, Bitty sitting and eating by his side. 

  
  


* * *

Ransom was leaving a particularly boring lecture when he noticed a familiar shock of blonde hair strolling down the quad. Bitty was absorbed in his phone, nearly running into a few girls as he laughed at something, so Ransom jogged to catch up. 

He and Adam hadn’t been dating long - they hadn’t even had the “are we boyfriends” talk yet - but he knew Bitty was Adam’s best friend and that if he planned on being the  _ best boyfriend ever _ , then he should probably get to know Bits. Plus, the dude seemed cool. Ransom never said no to making a new friend. 

“Hey, Bitty!” He called as he got closer. Bitty turned and smiled, tucking his phone into his coat pocket. 

“Hey, Ransom,” Bitty said cheerfully. “What’s up?”

“Just finished classes for the day,” Ransom said with a shrug. “You busy? I was planning on Thyme & Dough for lunch, if you’d wanna join me.” 

Thyme & Dough was a cute little bakery and sandwich shop on Main Street. The owners were a little crotchety and unfriendly towards Samwell students, but they had a BLT that was to _ die _ for. Bitty grinned and nodded. 

“That sounds great! You headed there now?” 

Talking with Bitty, Ransom learned, was super easy. The guy was friendly and outgoing, laughed at all the right parts of Ransom’s lacrosse stories, and made stories about the old church ladies from his hometown in Georgia interesting and hilarious. Ransom saw now why Adam loved this kid so much. Ransom wanted to tuck him away in his pocket and take him everywhere he went. 

“So, you and Adam, huh?” Bitty asked, almost shyly, as they dug into their lunches. Ransom nodded, mouth too full of sandwich to answer. Bitty appraised him, worrying at his bottom lip, then blurted out, “You are  _ way _ too well-dressed to date Adam. I mean,  _ gosh _ , have you  _ seen _ his nasty-ass basketball shorts? The ones he wears to class, like, every day? He’s had them since high school and they should be condemned, they’re so gross.” 

Bitty snapped his mouth shut and looked mortified, but Ransom just laughed, nearly choking on his sandwich. 

“Jesus, Bits,” he said, coughing a little. “Tell me how you really feel.” 

Bitty shrugged, lips pursed. “I’m just saying. He’s such a  _ bro _ .” 

Ransom grinned. “I know. It’s kinda endearing. Plus, under all that Nike and grime, he’s, like, a hot nerd. I’ve had librarian fantasies about dudes who wear glasses as well as he does.” 

Bitty let out a startled laugh and shook his head. “Goodness, you two really were made for each other, weren’t you?” 

From Adam they moved onto the topic of classes and majors, then parties, then Epikegster. “Wild night, bro,” Ransom said. “Wild night.” 

“Yeah, it was...fun.” Bitty bit his lip. The party itself had been somewhat of a disaster, but going home with Jack that night… Bitty cleared his throat. “So, um. Shitty said you’re real close with the volleyball team?” 

“Oh, yeah, dude.” Ransom took another bite of his sandwich and shrugged. “Real cool ladies. I dated March for a little while, but after we broke up I sort of realized that she was super in love with April, so I...got involved…” He took a sip of his water, looking a little sheepish. “But it got them together, and the team was so relieved ‘cause the tension between them had started messing with their game. March and April were pretty grateful that I’d stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, and the rest of the team’s way nicer to me now than when I was actually dating March.”

Bitty laughed. “That’s weirdly sweet. And that’s how you met Lardo?” 

“Actually, no,” Ransom said with a grin. “I, uh. I might’ve drunkenly convinced her to hold a seance with me in the Haus attic last year.”

Now it was Bitty’s turn to nearly choke on his food. “Goodness!” He exclaimed, pounding on his chest a little. “Why?”

So Ransom jumped into the story of being so drunk he thought ghosts were groping him, of finding Lardo and convincing her to make a Ouija board with him, of the weird music and the board spelling out BOOTY and screaming when Jack burst through the door. Bitty laughed and gasped and seemed to enjoy the story, but looked confused towards the end. 

“Why did you think Jack was a ghost?” He asked with a small frown. Ransom shrugged. 

“He came out of nowhere, like a jumpscare in a slasher movie. Nearly wet myself.” 

Bitty chuckled but shook his head. “No, I mean… ‘It’s the ghost of Jack Zimmermann!’ Why did you think Jack was dead?” 

Ransom paused, not quite sure how to answer. Adam had told him Bitty didn’t know much about hockey, didn’t know who Bad Bob was, but...well, he’d assumed Bitty had  _ googled _ Jack at this point. His crush was  _ so obvious _ . 

“Um, well...I’m not sure I’m the one who should be telling you this,” he hedged, biting his lip. “When Jack was a teenager, he was one of the top draft picks for the NHL. It wasn’t a question of  _ if _ he was getting drafted, more...if he or Kent Parson would go first. Parse did, it turned out, and Jack was found on the bathroom floor half-dead. Rumor was he’d overdosed and instead of going to the NHL he went to rehab. After that he sort of disappeared off the face of the earth, and a lot of rumors flew around that he’d actually died at the draft and the Zimmermanns hushed it up. Other people thought he’d killed himself in rehab - like, it was weird conspiracy-level shit. But, y’know. All you hear about is the Zimmermann-Parson duo for so long leading up to the draft, and then- you hear a shit-ton about Parse and absolutely  _ nothing _ about Zimms? You start to wonder if the rumors are true.”

Bitty thought he might cry.  _ Poor, poor Jack. _ “I hadn’t realized…” 

Ransom shook his head. “Look, I’m not even sure I should’ve told you about that. Jack’s clearly in a good place here, and if I had to guess I’d say he probably really likes that you don’t know anything about his tragic backstory.”

Bitty nodded and set down his sandwich, appetite gone. “So, um. Adam. How are you planning on wooing my favorite New Yorker, Mr. Oluransi?” 

Ransom grinned down at his lap and shrugged. “What do you suggest? Is he a dinner-and-a-movie kinda bro? Netflix and chill? Um, chicken nuggets and a B.J. in the McDonalds bathroom?”

“Lord!” Bitty flushed, holding a hand to his chest. Ransom laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Adam’s a mess, but he’s a secret romantic. Maybe something simple - you can’t actually take that boy to nice places - but sweet.  Dinner at a restaurant with cloth napkins, maybe a moonlit walk around campus?”

Ransom nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “There’s a Bruins game coming up, I might be able to get tickets. Would he like that?” 

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Oh, darlin’, you know he would. Just...if you do, give him the tickets in private. I can’t guarantee he won’t try n’ jump your bones.” 

Ransom barked with laughter, rubbing the back of his neck. “Perfect.” 

“You know,” Bitty said slowly, picking at the crust of his sandwich. “I may have lost a little bet to Adam. I have to make him a pie every week until the end of the year, and a little birdy told me he plans on sharing this week’s with you at some point. What’s your favorite flavor?” 

Ransom didn’t eat pie much - it wasn’t a staple dessert in his family. He shrugged and said, “Oh, I don’t really know. I guess I don’t have one.” 

Bitty huffed, unimpressed with the answer. “Well, then, what type am I going to make for you boys?” 

Ransom shrugged and thought for a moment. “What’s Adam’s favorite?” 

Bitty beamed so brightly at him, Ransom thought he’d go blind. 

 

* * *

 

Lardo was at Stop n’ Shop for the third time in two weeks. She wanted to blame Jack and his absurd protein powder intake - “You’re not even an athlete anymore, Jack- no, golf doesn’t count! It’s just walking!” - but this was on her. She had three projects due in a week and had started subsisting on Easy Mac and Chef Boyardee when she wasn’t at the studio. 

She was more or less shoveling Jack’s preferred brand of yogurt into her basket when someone sidled up next to her and clapped her on the back. 

“Shopping for the hubby?” Adam asked with a shit-eating grin. Lardo snorted and nodded, motioning to her basket. Aside from her junk food, it held yogurt, protein powder, and Gatorade. 

Adam started grabbing sticks of butter three at a time and Lardo laughed. “You, too, huh?” 

Adam grinned. “I won a bet with Bits and now he has to make me my pie of choice every week for the rest of the year. I figure pitching in to buy butter is the least I can do.” He pretended to wipe away a tear, sniffling a little. “He’s the best house-husband a bro could ask for.” 

Lardo rolled her eyes. “Speaking of hubbies,” she said with a grin. “How’s it going with Justin?” 

Adam’s eyes lit up. “Bruh, Rans is the coolest bro ever. I can’t believe I went two years at Samwell without knowing him.” He shook his head. “Two years  _ wasted _ .”

“You guys are cute,” Lardo said. They’d started down the chip aisle, and Lardo paused to grab a bag of pretzels. Jack got snacky as his classes got harder, and it was probably for the best that they have salty food in the house that  _ wasn’t _ soaked in grease. “Like, unfairly tall. But cute.” 

Adam grinned at her, grabbing a bag of Doritos from the top shelf. “Thanks, Lards.” 

“So how’s Bitty doing?” She asked as they turned down the microwave food aisle. Like a kid in a candy store, she threw about ten cups of Easy Mac into her basket with glee. “Tell him to come bake at the Volleyball Haus more, I need that sweet, southern lovin’ in my life.”   

“Bitty’s good,” Adam said, taking the basket from her when she started struggling. It wasn’t her fault Jack’s tub of protein powder was the size of a small child. “He’s, like, super embarrassingly crushing hardcore on Jack, but, like. Same ol’, same ol’, y’know?” 

Lardo laughed. “Yeah, Jack’s about the same. So embarrassing.”

“Ha!” Adam shook his head. “So, are we going to meddle, or are we gonna take bets on how long it takes for one of them to do something?” 

“Um, bet, obvi.” Adam turned them down a few aisles until they were in the baking section. He started grabbing things without even looking, knowing from muscle memory where everything was. 

Adam hummed. “Yeah, okay. Twenty bucks says it takes ‘em another two weeks.” 

Lardo shook her head. “Jack’s getting pretty antsy about it. I’d give it a week before he, like, explodes and does something dumb. How does Bitty feel about dating a huge fucking dork?”

Adam snorted. “I’m pretty sure that’s his  _ type _ .” 

“Oh, good.” They both giggled conspiratorially and headed to the cereal aisle. Adam didn’t bring up Jack and Bitty again, and neither did Lardo as they began arguing over Parks and Rec and 30 Rock, but occasionally their eyes would meet and they’d begin giggling again.  

Really. Their friends were just  _ ridiculous _ . 

  
  


* * *

Jack was leaving the volleyball Haus - April was in his photography class and wanted input on her project from someone who  _ wasn’t an art major, LaLa _ \- when he saw Adam and Ransom walking down the street. He paused on the front porch and waved to them, but they were too wrapped up in their conversation to notice. For a moment, Jack felt a little embarrassed, but then-

Adam snaked an arm around Ransom’s waist as they paused outside the lacrosse house. Ransom grinned, almost shyly, and leaned in, hand trailing up Adam’s chest. Jack felt frozen in place, watching in horror as Adam and Ransom kissed, slowly, sweetly, right there where anyone could see. 

When they broke away, Jack shook himself out of it. Ransom leaned in for a peck once more, then headed up the path to the house. By the time he was inside the front door, Jack had Adam pinned up against the big tree in the front yard. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Jack hissed. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

“Bro!” Adam grabbed at Jack’s arm, eyes wide. “Dude, the fuck-”

“How could you do this?!” Jack shouted, so close to Adam now that their noses almost brushed. “How could you do this to  _ Bitty _ ?”

“What the everloving fuck are you talking about, Zimmermann?” Adam shoved back at him, but Jack’s grip was too strong. “Do  _ what _ to Bit- oh.” 

Then the fucker started to laugh, almost hysterically. He tilted his head back against the trunk of the tree and clutched at his stomach, cackling. 

“Oh, my god,  _ bro _ \- did you think Bits and I were  _ dating _ ?” 

“Wait, what?” Jack loosened his grip. “Aren’t you?” 

“Dude,  _ no _ .” Adam laughed again and shook his head. “I fucking love Bits to pieces and I would totally tap that if he was, like, into friends with bennies and shit, but no, dude. I’m dating Ransom. Sort of. I think?” 

Jack was...overwhelmed, to say the least. “So you’re not cheating on him?”

Adam looked at him incredulously. “I wouldn’t do that to Bits! Not ever, ‘cause I’m not a two-faced cockhole dickface, but  _ especially  _ not after Aaron!” 

“Aaron?” 

Adam huffed and rubbed his jaw. “His dick ex-boyfriend who cheated on him.” He paused and laughed darkly. “It’s how Bits and I met, pretty much. I followed him from the party where  _ it  _ happened and we’ve been friends ever since.” He glowered up at Jack. “And  _ just _ friends, jackass. Jesus.”

“Oh.” Jack felt his face flush and shame settle in the pit of his stomach. He took a couple steps back and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Sorry.” 

Adam’s face softened. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, bro. I did  _ much  _ worse to Aaron after they broke up. But, uh...don’t tell Bits that.” 

Jack nodded. Adam pushed himself up off from the tree and huffed with laughter. “You know,” he said, grinning cheekily at Jack. “I think I’ve had wet dreams that started this way.”

Jack groaned but laughed as well. This night was turning out to be utterly embarrassing and ridiculous. After a moment, he asked, “So...is there any chance you won’t tell Bitty about this?” 

“ _ El oh el _ , bro,” Adam said, moving forward to clap Jack on the arm. “Not a chance in hell. But I’ll make a deal with you.” 

Jack nodded, grimacing a little.

“I won’t tell him until your wedding. Cool?” Adam added with a wink. Jack felt his face heat up but he nodded, too. 

“Yeah. Cool.” 

Adam laughed again and slung an arm around Jack’s neck, dragging him towards the sidewalk with him. “So, I gotta ask, dude: how long were you planning on pining over Bits since you thought he was off the market?” His face lit up as a thought came to him. “Ooh! Were you going to woo him away from me? Seduce him into a life of adultery and Zimmermann snuggles?” When Jack shook his head, Adam huffed dramatically. 

“Bro,” he said, poking Jack in the face with one freakishly long finger. “You owe me this much.”

Jack sighed, knowing he was full-on blushing now. “I just really wanted to be his friend.”

Adam smirked. “And now?” 

“And now…” From the tennis house down the road, Jack could hear pop music playing. The words were muffled but Jack recognized it from Bitty’s party playlist. It had been Bitty’s favorite that night, Jack remembered, and he’d made Adam and Shitty dance with him, singing along about light and halos and love. Jack bit his lip at the memory. “Now I want to be...more.” 

“Hah!” Adam shouted triumphantly. “I’m the best wingman  _ ever _ . Ah, fuck, I think I owe Lardo twenty bucks.” 

“What?” Jack stopped walked, looking up at Adam in shock. “Wait, have you been trying to set me and Bitty up?” 

“Um, chyeah,” Adam said, hands on his hips. “That’s why I introduced the two of you at Epikegster. You’re, like, totally his type.” He looked away, looking almost sheepish, and added, “And...based on the rumors I heard about you back in the day...I kinda took a chance that he would be  _ your _ type, too.” 

Jack wasn’t quite sure what rumors about his non-existent coke addiction had to do with Bitty- and then it hit him. 

“Please tell me you never read any of that God-awful fanfiction,” Jack said with a small huff. “I’m not sure I can be friends with someone who’s read about me and Kenny fucking in a coffee shop or whatever-”

“Not quite how it went,” Adam said with a shrug. “It was more...Kent Parson, the Starbucks barista, meets Jack Zimmermann, the lonely grad student and they fall in love and get several cats and an an apartment that they couldn’t actually afford on their respective salaries?”

“Oh, my god,” Jack mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kenny used to think that shit was hilarious.”

“Bitty would probably find it funny, too, if I just happened to email him the link…” Adam pulled out his phone. Jack nearly slapped it from his hands in an attempt to stop him. 

“No,” he hissed. “Please, no.” 

“Alright, alright,” Adam said, tucking his phone away. “I promise I won’t send Bits any links...for now.” 

So wrapped up in their conversation, neither boy seemed to realize to where exactly they were wandering. They found themselves outside of Faber, still arguing about Adam’s stupid fanfiction. 

“Like, don’t get me wrong, bro,” Adam said as they slowed to a stop. “It’s mega creepy that people wrote stories about you - like, you and Parse were teenagers, I totally admit it’s hella gross.” 

Jack shrugged. The fanfiction Kenny had drunkenly read to him had really been the  _ least _ invasive thing in his life at the time. Some of it was even kind of hot, in a weird way. But mostly just uncomfortable. 

“But, bro...I don’t know…” Adam shrugged again, looking sheepish. “Some of the stories dealt with the two of you coming out in the NHL, and I’m sure that’s...not fun for you to think about…” Jack shook his head vehemently. “But as a queer kid in juniors, I don’t know, man...it was encouraging to read that kinda stuff, you know? I never thought I’d make it pro, even before my knee, but...you and Parse were such a powerhouse, y’know? I thought that if anyone would be able to come out and still play...it’d be you two.” 

Jack looked up at Faber, tall and imposing in the fading light of dusk. Kenny still talked about coming out sometimes, but it seemed like such a risk, even now. 

(Some nights he’d call Jack, usually drunk or high, and ask him what real life was like, what life without hockey was like. “It’s a little empty, sometimes,” Jack would usually say. “And scary. But it’s...fuck, Kenny. It’s free. I don’t have to hide anymore.”

Kenny would go silent for a moment, usually, and then whisper, “If the team isn’t behind me...I couldn’t handle that, Zimms. They’re my family. They’re all I have.”

Jack never had a response to that. In a sad way, it was true.)

“I think I still might, one day,” Jack eventually said, voice soft. “I don’t know how much good it would do, since I left all that behind, since it was one of the things that nearly killed me, but...maybe it would be easier. For other guys, if I said something. Spoke out. Papa would be behind me, I know he would...Kenny, too, in his own way.”

Adam waggled his eyebrows at Jack. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to have Alicia ‘Lesbian Icon’ Zimmermann in your corner, either.” 

Jack laughed at that. Maman had never quite been sure how she’d become an unofficial role model to gay, young women, but it had started when she’d briefly starred in some show about aliens in the 90s. She took this role very seriously.

“She’d probably be over the moon if I made a public statement,” Jack said, still chuckling. “And she’d probably threaten to physically fight any reporters who got too nosy. Again.” 

Adam grinned. “Your mom’s kinda the coolest. No offense to your dad.” 

Jack shrugged. “He knew what he was getting himself into when he proposed. He’s okay with being a trophy-husband at this point.” 

This made Adam roar with laughter, and the two of them found themselves slumped against the front doors of Faber, knocking shoulders and laughing.

“You know, if you do ever decide to make a public statement,” Adam said, sobering a little. “We’d all have your back. You saw Bits the other night with that LAX douche, he’d probably send cyanide-pie to anyone who gave you shit. And I’m a little afraid to think what Lardo would do.” 

Jack grinned at the thought of Lardo and Bitty taking on paparazzi or ESPN talking heads.  _ He _ certainly would never cross the two of them. “Thanks, Adam.” 

“S’what friends are for,” Adam said around a yawn. He stood and offered Jack a hand up. “Now, what do you say about walking a dude home? Bits is probably baking and will  _ definitely _ need someone to taste-test.” He gave Jack a shit-eating grin and nudged him in the ribs. 

“Well, you’ve already been assaulted once tonight,” Jack said sheepishly. “Might as well make sure you get home safe.” 

They walked away towards Adam and Bitty’s apartment building, shoving at each other and laughing a little too loud. Behind them, the ice rink faded into the dark night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Jack. Oooooooh, Jack. I almost had him punch Holster, but Holster strikes me as the type to retaliate first, ask questions later and I didn’t think Bitty needed that kind of stress in his life. 
> 
> Also, the “lesbian icon” Alicia Zimmermann joke is a reference to all the Gillian Anderson fancasts I’ve seen for her. I like to think that Alicia is actually way more famous/publicly involved than Bob, but we don’t see that since the comic is so hockey-centered.


	6. best bros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: oh hey i need to finish this fic  
> Me: goes to ao3  
> Me: sees “last updated - july 31”  
> Me: *sweats nervously* ...happy holidays??
> 
> This chapter, unintentionally, is a bit of a return to the original friendships. I meant for Jack and Lardo to have more screen time, but then this happened...
> 
> The word bro is used 52 times in this chapter. I’m so, so sorry.

“Oh, my  _ God _ ,” Lardo whispered, clapping both hands over her mouth. 

Jack took a deep breath, bracing himself. He could see her shoulders shaking with pent-up giggles, face turning pink as the seconds ticked by. Finally, he said, “You can laugh. Please don’t suffocate.” 

Lardo flopped back against the cushions of their couch, clutching at her stomach as she let out loud, almost hysterical barks of laughter. “ _ Zimmermann _ \- you  _ kill _ me!” 

With a long-suffering sigh, Jack sipped on his smoothie and waited for Lardo to wear herself out. He deserved this, he knew, but no one in his life had ever been as good or as ruthless at chirping him as Larissa Duan. 

“Zimmermann,” Lardo finally said, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. “Jack,  _ fuck _ . I can’t-  _ ha-ha! _ I can’t believe you tried to beat up Adam,  _ ohmygod _ .”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack sighed. “It was stupid.”

“Not just stupid,” Lardo said with a wide, taunting grin. “ _ Adorably _ stupid. You giant, loveable ding-dong. I want to say that I can’t believe you were gonna fight the Hulk for Bitty’s honor, but it’s  _ you _ so of  _ course _ you were.”

Jack shrugged, staring into his glass. The smoothie was a repulsive shade of green from the spinach he’d added and he could just hear Bitty’s reaction:  _ Good Lord, Mr. Zimmermann, would it kill you to drink something tasty once in awhile? I understand you’re tryin’ to be healthy, but at  _ what cost?

“Jack,” Lardo said, scooting closer. “You’re allowed to have a crush on Bits, you know that, right?”

Jack looked up, startled. Lardo’s face had gone scary-serious, like when she told off creeps at parties or got off the phone with her grandmother. “I don’t understand,” he said after a pause, setting his cup down on the paint-stained coffee table. 

“I know — well, I know  _ now _ — that you weren’t going for it with Bits ‘cause you thought he was with Adam. But...is that the only reason?” 

Jack ducked his head. “Yes.” 

“Jack, look me in the eye and say that again.” Lardo moved over until she could wriggle her toes under his thigh, leaning against her knees until their faces were only a couple inches apart. “Do you remember the day you came out to me?” 

“Yeah,” Jack said, nodding. “That party, when you were a frog.” 

Lardo looked at him sadly. “No, Jack, I mean- do you  _ remember _ ?” 

_ Oh _ . “No,” he admitted quietly. “Not really.” 

That had been the worst night of his time at Samwell. He’d gotten into a small tiff with Parse over his decision to major in Education (and not return to hockey like Parse desperately wanted), then had gotten into a much larger fight with his dad over — well, Jack couldn’t actually remember that either. It had been inconsequential, but it had sent Jack into a downwards spiral. The moment he’d felt the numbness of panic in his lips and fingers, he’d all but run from his dorm room. There was a party at the LAX frat, his golf buddies had told him earlier that day, so he’d stumbled over that way and headed straight to the back of the frat’s living room where the liquor table stood.

Everything got a bit blurry after that, but Jack had faint memories of throwing up on someone’s yard, of a small hand taking his, of Lardo — a tiny frog he barely knew — brushing the hair from his head as he huddled over a dorm toilet all night. And crying — he remembered crying a lot, afraid he’d just ruined Samwell for himself the way he’d ruined hockey, the way he ruined everything. Somewhere, mixed in that mess of puking and crying and babbling, Jack had come out to Lardo — the first person he’d ever told at Samwell. 

In the morning, he awoke in a strange bed in a room he didn’t recognize. In was a freshman double, he recognized, and a stranger was fast asleep in the other bed. The walls were covered in a mix of Pride flags, band posters, and torn-out photographs from fashion magazines. 

And across from the bed, slumped against her standard-issue desk, was Lardo, fast asleep, body angled as if she had been watching Jack for a better part of the night. And it was, more than anything, that set Jack’s mind at ease. 

“Jack, you with me?” Lardo asked now, toes digging into his leg. He nodded, though his thoughts still far away in that messy dorm room. “You’re not...you’re allowed to like men, Jack. I know you know that, logically, but- it’s not wrong. You’re allowed to like Bits — I mean, fuck, who wouldn’t? Bitty’s great.” She poked his arm, snapping his from the cloud of his mind. “You’re allowed to be happy.” 

Without a word, Jack pulled Lardo against him, tucking her under his arm like a teddy bear. She let him manhandle her into a pseudo-hug, and didn’t even protest when he kissed the top of her head. 

“You know,” he said softly. “I was talking with Adam-”

“Before or after you pinned him against a tree?” The smile had returned to Lardo’s face. 

“After,” Jack said. “I’ve been thinking about coming out, publicly. Making a statement. It probably won’t mean much, since I never made it pro, but...it might help  _ someone _ .”

Lardo’s smile softened. “Parson would probably be all over that opportunity to come out, too.”

Jack laughed. “The Aces’ PR would probably come after me — I’ve heard Kent’s more farfetched plans for coming out, and I don’t think they’d appreciate him tie-dying his jersey and throwing glitter at the refs.” 

“Tell me how he hasn’t run away to become one of Britney’s back-up dancers,” Lardo said with a laugh. “He’s so fucking theatrical.” 

“I’m aware,” Jack said mildly. “But in all seriousness, he’s dying for someone to go first, and since I don’t have a career to worry about...I think I could handle it. I think I’d be okay.” 

“If it’s what you want, then I support you,” Lardo said. “But don’t feel obligated just ‘cause Parson needs someone to go before him.”

“I want to help people,” Jack said softly. “It’s why I want to be a teacher. And it’s why I want to make a statement. This summer, after the season’s over. Parse isn’t the only guy in the league who would...benefit.”

Lardo rested her head against his chest. “Look at you, Zimmermann. Going and growing up on me when I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“Couldn’t’ve done it without you,” Jack murmured. “I’m serious. I was...I was alone at Samwell before you forced your way into my life.” 

Lardo didn’t say anything, just wrapped her arms tightly around him and squeezed. Across the room, Jack’s eyes settled on the torn-out piece of sketchbook paper that they’d hung, framed on the wall. Smudged across the page were several pairs of legs, over-muscled and oddly shaped, and one fantastically sketched bubble butt. At the bottom, he’d insisted Lardo sign her name and put the date - the day his life had started to change for the better. 

(“Mine, too,” she'd admitted the day they’d hung the sketches. “I’m glad to have met you, Jack. Even if your ugly-ass shorts make me die a little inside.”)

They sat together for several minutes, reveling in the quiet embrace. Jack thought he might’ve heard Lardo sniffle once, but when she looked up at him with that mischievous grin, her eyes were dry. 

“So. Bitty,” she said and Jack groaned. He would never escape the chirping, not with Lardo around. And he wasn’t sure he really wanted to. 

* * *

“Okay, what was  _ so _ important that you had to drag me out of bed at this ungodly hour?” Bitty asked, yawning into the large PSL Adam had bought him as a bribe. “If this is another hour-long tirade about Ransom’s abs, I am going to have to politely decline. They’re all over his Instagram, I don’t need to hear you wax poetic about your boyfriend.”

Adam grinned, resting his chin in his hand. “Bitty, seeing them online is  _ nothing _ compared to licking them all-”

“Nope!” Bitty jammed his fingers into his ears. “Nuh-uh, I  _ cannot _ hear you.  _ La la la la- _ !”

“Bits, calm down,” Adam said with a laugh. “I’ll stop. For now.”

“You better,” Bitty muttered. “I’m gonna murder you if you made me get up early to listen to deets.”

“No, this is about Jack,” Adam said, mostly just to watch Bitty’s face turn bright red. 

“What about him?” Bitty fiddled with the handle of his mug, eyes darting towards the door. Adam bit the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing. 

“Well,” Adam began, sipping at his own latte. “A funny thing happened last night that I think you will be  _ very _ interested in…”

“Bro!”

Adam gasped and turned around. “Bro!” He shouted as Ransom slipped into the seat next to him. 

Bitty watched them with amusement as they kissed hello. Ransom sat pressed up against Adam, touching from shoulder to knee, and Adam was overwhelmed with how large and warm and solid his boyfriend was. All he wanted was to drag Ransom back to the apartment or the LAX house and snuggle him for a few hours, but he had a dumb class and then Rans had a dumb practice and everything was  _ dumb _ . 

He must’ve been staring at Ransom for too long, because suddenly Bitty was standing, draining his mug and shrugging on his coat. “Bits, where’re you going?” Adam asked. “We just got here.” 

“Adam,” Bitty said in his favorite Mom Friend voice. “I love you, but I’m too tired to be a third wheel right now. I’ll see y’all later.”

“Oh, okay.” Adam couldn’t help but feel a little bad. He and Bitty had been attached at the hip for so long, and now he had Ransom… “Wait, Bits! Jack!” 

But Bitty was halfway to the door, waving goodbye. “Tell me your story later, ‘kay? Bye, Ransom!”

Rans watched as Bitty left, guilt evident on his face. “I’m sorry, I broke up bro time, didn’t I?”

“Nah, dude, it’s fine,” Adam said, taking Ransom’s hand. “I’m really happy to see you.” 

“I’m happy to see you, too,” Ransom said, leaning in to peck Adam again. “But are you  _ sure _ I’m not interrupting bro time? Bits is your  _ best bro _ . Who’s he gonna bro with if you’re with me all the time? Bro.”

Adam grinned;  _ God _ he was so gone on Ransom. “I think that was a record-breaking usage of ‘bro.’”

Ransom punched his shoulder lightly. “I’m being serious. I don’t wanna, like, usurp Bitty’s place in your life.”

“You’re not,” Adam insisted. “Like I’m not taking Shitty’s place, right? Bros and babes are totally different.” 

Ransom rolled his eyes fondly, but shook his head. “It’s not the same, though. Shitty and I are, like,  _ Bro _ bros, you know? Like, beer pong partners and pantsing each other in public kind of bros. You and Bits are different.” 

“Not really,” Adam argued, staring down into his cup. “Sure, Bits isn’t, like, the bro-iest bro, but we’re totally  _ Bro _ bros.”

Ransom pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, that word is losing all meaning. But, like, you and Bits were practically dating before we met.”

“We were  _ not _ .” Adam pouted. “We were total bros!” 

Ransom raised an eyebrow at him. “How many times have the two of you made out?” 

Adam knew he’d been backed into a corner, but he still crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at his latte. “Only, like, three times- and we were drunk! It doesn’t count!” 

“See?” Ransom was smirking at him, sipping on his own PSL. “Even Shitty and I haven’t done that, and Shitty will literally make out with anyone.”

“Okay, but Bits and I are still just bros,” Adam protested. “Just because  _ you _ don’t make out with your bros-”

Ransom set down his cup, looking around Annie’s. Adam realized his voice must’ve grown louder and he looked down, embarrassed. “I’m not trying to, I don’t know, shame you for your friendship with Bitty,” Ransom said. “I’m not jealous of what you guys have. But it’s...I think your relationship is more intense than you realize. And I don’t want to be the person that comes between you guys.” 

“Are you breaking up with me?” Adam asked, probably too loud. He couldn’t hear much over the rush of blood in his ears, the wild thumping of his heart. 

Ransom blinked a few times in surprise. “No!” He eventually managed, words coming out choked. “No, Adam,  _ no _ . I just want you to know that you can always tell me to fuck off if you need bro time. God, this conversation got so fucked,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Adam didn’t know what to say, so he leaned in and captured Ransom’s lips in a kiss. Ransom cradled the sides of his face, pulling back to rest his forehead against Adam’s. “I’m glad you’re not breaking up with me.” 

“I’m glad I’m not either,” Ransom said with a small laugh. “I’m sorry this got weird.” 

“No,” Adam said, smiling a little sadly. “I’m glad you brought it up. Bits and I  _ are _ super close, and I don’t want him to think I’m, like, ditching him or anything.” He stole another kiss, then pulled back to grab his coffee. “You’re so smart, babe.” 

“So I’ve been told,” Ransom said. “So smart, in fact, that I can read that clock over there and know that  _ someone _ needs to head to class.”

“Aww,” Adam said, pouting. “Fine.”

“Bye, bro,” Ransom said cheekily. Still pouting, Adam kissed him soundly, then stood and grabbed his backpack. 

“Hang out later?” He asked, heart fluttering as Ransom grinned up at him. 

“Duh. Now get out of here, go kick some Econ ass.” 

Adam chuckled and let himself get shooed from Annie’s, happiness fizzing under his skin like little bubbles. He wandered off towards his class, head in the clouds and heart left behind on a coffee shop table. 

 

* * *

 

When Shitty got to the library, he knew almost immediately that something was off with Ransom. He wasn’t curled under the table, thank fuck, but there was a crease between his brows that worried Shitty. 

“Brah, you okay?” Shitty asked. “Test coming up?” 

Ransom shook his head. “No.” 

Shitty was a lot of things, he knew: an exceptional student, according to his advisor; a disgrace to the family name, according to his grandparents; an absolute pain in the ass, according to anyone who’d ever been in a class with him. Shitty even fancied himself a good friend and decent human being. 

But for all that Shitty was, he was  _ not _ a patient man. 

“Alright, bud, you know the drill,” he said as loud as he dared among the cubicles and shelves. “Tell me how to make you feel better, or I’m gonna sit on you. It’ll be a whole scene. A librarian might cry.” 

Ransom gave him a weak half-smile. “Don’t do that. I’m just...anxious. In general.” 

That was pretty unusual — Ransom almost always had a source for his anxiety, usually upcoming tests or med school applications. “You wanna talk it out?” Shitty asked, sliding into the chair next to Ransom at their usual table. “Is it Adam? New relationship jitters?”

“Sort of,” Ransom admitted, fiddling with a page of his textbook. “Um. I think we’re pretty solid, you know? But, um. I don’t know, it’s just the anxiety thing...s’just bad today.” 

Shitty didn’t know, per se, but had been friends with Ransom long enough to know just what he needed. “Alright, we got an hour before you have practice. Let’s go to the Volleyball Haus.” 

“Shits,” Ransom whined. “The boys can see me when we do that.” 

Shitty slapped Ransom on the back. “And? Is your ego really that fragile, Oluransi?”

“No,” Ransom muttered. “Okay, yeah, alright. It’ll help.” 

“Perfect,” Shitty said with a grin. “Let’s go.” 

 

Twenty minutes later found them on the porch roof of the Volleyball Haus — the Reading Room, as Lardo had dubbed it. They both balanced on one leg, in rough semblances of the Tree Pose. Shitty had a joint hanging out of his mouth and both were a little too bundled up to properly do yoga. 

“I crashed one of Adam and Bitty’s bro dates this morning,” Ransom admitted after several minutes of silence. “And, like, Adam’s pretty adamant-”

“Hah. Adam’s adamant. Good one.”

“Shut up.” Ransom glowered at him for a second, then his face fell. “Adam insisted that it was fine, that he wanted me to be there, but Bits left really quickly and I just...I can’t get it out of my head. I feel like I hurt his feelings, and I can’t stop feeling bad about it. And now I’m just anxious about everything. I want to talk to Bitty, but I think Adam was gonna do that first so now I just have to wait? And I don’t even think it’ll help all that much, really, ‘cause now I’m just in an anxiety spiral and my chest hurts and I can’t really relax so I’m gonna be really stiff during practice and-”

“Alright, brah, it’s alright, c’mere.” Shitty broke his pose and slung his arm around Ransom’s neck, pulling him close. “C’mon, breathe with me.” 

Ransom took several deep breaths, eyes squeezed shut. “Thanks, man,” he murmured, knocking his forehead against Shitty’s. “I just want to do this right. I really, really like Adam.”

“That’s gross, brah,” Shitty said with a grin, tossing the joint into the ashtray balanced on a lawn chair. “You’re gettin’ sap in my mustache.” 

“Shut up,” Ransom said, but he was grinning, too. “I just- I feel like he’s the one, you know? Which is ridiculous, I haven’t known him very long, but we just  _ click _ , and I’ll never forgive myself if I screw things up with, like, my fucking soulmate.” 

“Rans, c’mon, you’re good. Adam’s fucking head over heels for you,” Shitty said, squeezing Ransom’s shoulder. “If Bitty’s, like, jealous or something, then that’s his deal. And if you  _ did _ hurt his feelings, you just have to talk to him. Bits is a cool cat, I really don’t think he’ll just start hating you or try to turn Adam against you or anything.” 

Ransom shrugged. “I don’t think he would on purpose. Bits is great. But, like...remember when you dated Megan Shultz? And I hated her? Because she’s  _ terrible _ ? And then you broke up with her a week later? If Bits hates me, Adam  _ will _ start hating me.”

“Okay,  _ one _ , I broke up with Megan ‘cause she was hella self-centered and hated on the ‘stache,” Shitty said. “And  _ two _ , Bitty doesn’t hate you, I promise. I’m not sure that kid is capable of hating anyone.”

“Right, you’re right,” Ransom said. He shook his head a little, like he was clearing out the haze from his mind. “Thanks, man,” he murmured, a bit softer. “Sorry for getting all stuck in my head like that.” 

“Don’t apologize, man,” Shitty said. “You can’t help your anxiety. I’m always here to pull you out of it.” 

Ransom gave Shitty and odd look, then tucked his head against Shitty’s shoulder. “Why haven’t we ever made out?” He asked suddenly. 

Shitty reared back in surprise. “Um... _ why _ ?”

Ransom shrugged. “You’re more than just a  _ Bro _ bro. I’m mean, you’re a super bro for sure, but, like, normal bros don’t know how to pull their bro out of an anxiety spiral like that. We  _ are _ like Bits and Adam.” He looked mortified for a second and grabbed Shitty’s shoulders. “I want you to know,” he said slowly and seriously. “That no one could ever replace you in my heart. Okay?” 

“Uh, cool, man. I know.” Shitty patted one of Ransom’s hands. “...I have so many questions.” 

“I’ll explain later,” Ransom said a bit sheepishly. “Once I’m more out of my head.” 

“No rush, brah,” Shitty said easily. “But I  _ am _ comin’ back to that making out question.”

“As would be expected,” Ransom said with a small grin. “Thanks for being my best bro, bro.” 

“Of course, brah.” Shitty slapped Ransom’s ass and pulled away to touch his toes. “Now, back to yoga. You need to be nice and limber for your butterfly catching.” 

Ransom rolled his eyes. Shitty generally refused to say the word “lacrosse” on principle. “Yeah, yeah. What’s the next pose?” 

Shitty flashed him a wicked grin. “I call this one ‘Lovesick Bro.’” 

They spent the rest of the time before Ransom had to leave wrestling. Really, on a spiritual level, it was almost the same as yoga. Probably. Maybe. 

 

* * *

Bitty was baking when Adam got home from class. 

This in itself shouldn’t have been concerning, except that Bitty was baking brownies. He only did that when he was sad. The first thing of Bitty’s Adam had ever  _ tried _ had been immediate-post-breakup brownies and as amazing as they had been, they’d been a product of total heartbreak. Adam still swore he could taste the sadness in them. 

“Bits?” He called out, quietly dropping his bag on the couch. “You okay?” 

“Kitchen!” Bitty shouted, not at all answering Adam’s question. As if Adam couldn’t  _ see _ Bitty half-hidden by the cabinets of the kitchenette. “Brownies should be ready soon.”

“Bits,” Adam said quietly, shuffling closer. “I think we need to talk.” 

Bitty didn’t look up from the icing he was mixing, measuring out cocoa powder in a careful way he didn’t usually employ. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten our bet, Adam. You’ll still get a pie this week, I promise.” 

When it became clear that Bitty wasn’t going to willingly be a part of Adam’s conversation, Adam did what he did best — and went straight into big brother mode. 

“ _ Hey! _ ” Bitty yelped as Adam grabbed him under each armpit and hoisted him into the air. “Put! Me! Down!” 

Like he’d done a thousand times with his sisters, Adam carried Bitty into the cramped living room and deposited him on the couch. “Stop sad-baking, Bits. We need to talk.” 

Bitty struggled into a sitting position, not quite meeting Adam’s eye. Adam sighed and sat down on the couch, shoving his bag to floor. Bitty fiddled with the fraying hem of his sleeve, tugging at a loose string. 

“Bits,” Adam said softly, reaching out to still Bitty’s hand. “Are you okay?” 

“Of course!” Bitty said. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“This morning, at Annie’s,” Adam said, trying to keep his voice soft. “You seemed off.” 

Bitty shrugged and cast Adam a mock-glare. “You pulled me out of bed so gosh darn early, and I’d only gone to sleep around three-”

“It wasn’t a matter of you being tired, Bits,” Adam said a bit more forcefully. Bitty flinched, just a little, but it made Adam’s heart sink. Even after all this time, there was still a small part of Bitty that was scared of him. “Ransom brought something up after you left.” When Bitty didn’t react, Adam kept going. “He thinks that you might feel, just a teensy bit, like he’s...replacing you.” 

Bitty’s eyes went wide and scared. Adam instantly regretted bringing it up at all. “I-I-  _ no. _ No, hone- no. I don’t think- you’re like the big brother I never wanted.” 

Normally Adam might’ve laughed or feigned insult, but now he just smiled sadly. “Bits, we’re not, like, the bro-iest of bros.”

Bitty shook his head. “I don’t know what that means.” 

Though he’d deny it later, Adam could feel his cheeks heating up a little as he said, “We’ve basically been dating since you and Aaron broke up.”

The color drained from Bitty’s face so fast Adam thought he might faint. “ _ What? _ ” 

“Platonically!” He added, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Bro-dating!” 

“Stop saying bro!” Bitty nearly shrieked. “It’s so confusing! And we weren’t  _ dating _ !”

“He just meant, we’re really, really close, Bits. We’ve sort of been stand-ins for each other’s boyfriends since we met — going to parties together, movie nights, froyo dates. I mean, shit, you came with me to my creepy uncle’s wedding last May. Which is, like, normal best friend stuff but also...boyfriend stand-in stuff.” 

“Stop making up terms,” Bitty muttered, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Why are you saying all of this? What's the point? Is Justin jealous? Do you want me to talk with him? Just tell me what you want from me.”

Adam could feel his heart break a little. “Bits, I don't want anything from you. I just want to make sure you're okay.”

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Bitty snapped. “I’m sorry I ran out on you and Ransom, but I’m tired and I’m  _ sorry _ I didn’t want to get stuck watching you two suck face!” 

“I’m sorry we made you uncomfortable,” Adam said softly. Bitty huffed. 

“Great, thanks, we’re both sorry. Conversation over.”

He tried to stand up, but Adam grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “Bitty, I just want to make sure we’re okay. You're my best friend and I don't want you to think things will change.”

Bitty looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “Of course things will change. That's  _ life _ . Things change. People come and go. Relationships form and break and warp into weird...things. What is this really about?”

Adam took a deep breath. “Are you jealous?”

“Of course I’m jealous!” Bitty bit out. “My first boyfriend — a man I  _ loved _ — threw me aside like garbage and you get someone wonderful like Ransom! Of course I’m jealous of that! But not- not because...I’m just so  _ lonely _ , Adam.” Adam’s heart ached at the crack in Bitty’s voice. “I’m so happy for you and Ransom but, I’m lonely and in love with a beautiful, smart, wonderful,  _ straight _ boy who will never love me back.” 

“You’re in love with a straight guy?” Adam asked, confused. Then it clicked. “No, Bitty, you’re not!” 

Bitty wiped at his eyes, frowning. “I think I know my own goddamn heart, Adam.”

“No, Bits, listen.” Adam kneeled on the ground next to where Bitty sat, taking both of his hands. “That’s what I was trying to tell you this morning. That’s why I got you up so early, why I wanted to get coffee in the first place!” 

“You’re not makin’ any sense,” Bitty muttered, sniffling a little. 

“ _ Jack _ !” Adam said. “He’s  _ not _ straight, Bits. And he’s not dating Lardo.” 

“What?” Bitty looked like he’d just been hit by a truck. “Are you messing with me? I swear to God, Adam Birkholtz, I will  _ tan your hide-” _

“ _ Eric _ .” Adam grabbed Bitty’s face with both hands, forcing him to stop his tirade. “I can’t tell you exactly what happened last night because I promised Jack I wouldn’t, but he! Is! Interested! In! You!” 

“I...what?” Bitty whispered. “How do you…?”

“He thought we were dating,” Adam said. “And when I told him we weren't I got him to confess to liking you. Why do you think I introduced the two of you in the first place? _Nice eyes, nice smile, nice ass_ , remember?” 

For a moment, Adam was afraid he'd broken Bitty. But then Bitty was on his feet, smacking a loud kiss to the top of Adam’s head. 

“I gotta go,” Bitty said. Adam leaned back against the couch, eyebrow raised. 

“And where on earth could you be going, Mr. Bittle?” He asked in a poor imitation of Bitty’s accent. “Seriously, what's the plan, Itty Bitty?” 

When Bitty turned back to face him, Adam was a little surprised to see confidence washing over the anxiety in Bitty’s face. “I'm gonna go kiss that ridiculous, beautiful Canadian. Right on the mouth. And maybe touch that butt, if he'll let me.”

“I think he'd let you throw him off a cliff if you batted those big, ole doe-eyes at him,” Adam said with a laugh. “But this plan seems pretty bold, especially for Eric ‘I Don't Kiss on a First Date’ Bittle.” 

“Okay,  _ one _ : you know very well that's not true.” Bitty gave him a pointed look. “And  _ two:  _ a wise man once said, ‘You miss 100% of the shots you never take.’ If what you say is true, then this is a shot I wanna take as soon as possible.” 

“You know Jack probably  _ knows _ Gretzky, right?” Adam paused, then added, “I'm kinda surprised  _ you _ know who Gretzky  _ is _ .” 

“Shush,” Bitty said. “I gotta go, gotta find out where Jack is.” He pulled out his phone in a flash, fingers dancing over the screen in a blur. 

“Is your plan just to mouth-tackle him? Like, hey, Jack, I'm super in love with you, now let me put my tongue down your throat?” Adam asked with delight. “Because I approve if it is.”

But Bitty was tapping away at his phone, ignoring Adam. “Lardo says she last saw Jack at Faber. Where's my coat?” 

“So I'll just take the sadness brownies out of the oven in, like, thirty minutes?” Adam asked. Bitty whirled around, one arm in his jacket sleeve, and grinned. 

“Let ‘em burn. I'll make a pie when I get back.” 

“It's okay if you don't come back!” Adam shouted at him. “I understand the pull of the Zimmermann charm! Touch the butt, Bitty! I believe in you!” And Bitty was out the door, jogging down the hallway. 

Adam grinned and pulled out his phone to set a timer. Sadness brownies might taste like sadness but they also tasted like gooey chocolate goodness when they weren't burned. Then, with a smirk, he shot off a text to Lardo:

_ It's happening. It's finally happening.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was…..a hell of a lot heavier than I intended it to be? Oops? I started writing the Annie’s scene and Bitty was just supposed to steal Ransom’s drink and leave them to be cute, but I just couldn’t get him to be...happy about it? So then it sort of devolved into this concern that he and Holster have been living in each other’s pockets for so long that Ransom and Holster becoming Ransom&Holster would, invariably, affect him. Things aren't exactly peachy between them after that ~fight, but I have the feeling those boys'll be alright. 
> 
> Next up: Boys will smooch! Butts will be touched! Adam will get a hockey nickname! Jack will try and fail to give a shovel talk! And maybe something about golf? Who knows?! Not me, that's for sure.
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [eve-baird.](http://eve-baird.tumblr.com/) Come say hi!


	7. like a final puzzle piece

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH HEY LONG TIME NO SEE HAVE A CHAPTER OKAY BYE

Faber was empty when Bitty arrived, the midday light casting a golden hue across the ice. And no – it wasn’t quite empty; Jack was weaving circles around a small, tattered goal, occasionally making a shot. Bitty paused for a moment to watch Jack. He looked like he belonged on the ice, handling his well-worn stick and skates like they were an extension of him. It was mesmerizing in the way watching Katya skate had been, seeing the years of dedication and practice carved into Jack’s movements, his posture. Then Bitty remembered what Ransom had told him and something in his chest ached. All of that time and work and passion, and his dream was gone in an instant.

As Bitty moved forward, the old boards under the carpet squeaked and Jack turned around. If Bitty had any doubts before, they melted away when Jack smiled at him, big and bright and adoring.

“A little birdy told me you were here,” Bitty said as he reached the edge of the rink. Jack glided over to greet him, and _Lord – he was practically glistening in the late afternoon sunlight._

“A little birdy or a little art major?” Jack asked, voice monotone but grin playful.

“I think you know which,” Bitty said with a laugh. “You know, I heard some mighty interesting things from Adam today…”

The blood drained from Jack’s face. “He said he wouldn’t- What did he say-? I swear I wasn’t actually gonna hit him- well, not hard-”

“Woah, woah, sweetheart, slow down.” Bitty held up his hands in a placating gesture. “He didn’t tell me much – you were gonna _hit Adam_?”

“Um,” Jack said, cheeks flushing. “I thought he was cheating on you.”

Bitty’s hand flew to cover his mouth, muffling the shriek of laughter that bubbled from his chest. “Oh, sugar, you didn’t!”

“I did,” Jack admitted with an embarrassed shrug. “And he told me you guys weren’t an item, so…”

“So…” Bitty parroted. “That means I’m single.”

Jack was steadfastly staring at his skates. “Right.”

“So I’d be amenable to...being asked out.”

“Yeah.”

Bitty huffed. “But only if I was being asked out by a dorky Canadian with the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

At that, Jack looked up, face hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Good Lord, Mr. Zimmermann, did you forget how to form complete sentences?” Bitty teased. Jack laughed, his smile almost bashful. “Jesus, alright, c’mere you thick hunk of Canadian bacon-”

Jack almost toppled forward as Bitty grabbed his sweatshirt, pulling him down for a kiss. His lips were warm, the skin around them rough with the beginnings of stubble. Jack smelled of sweat and cheap laundry detergent and musky deodorant, a bizarrely intoxicating mixture. He was so much taller than Bitty, and wider, and thick with muscle and a healthy layer of chub around his waist. As those arms wrapped around Bitty’s waist, pulling him closer, Bitty thought he might faint from how overwhelmingly encompassed he was by Jack’s presence.

Jack pulled back to look at Bitty, eyes soft and smile goofy. “Hey,” he said softly. “That was nice.”

“Yeah,” Bitty said, suddenly at a loss for words.

Jack pecked his lips again, then smirked. “Who can't form sentences now?”

“Oh, shush,” Bitty said, tugging on Jack’s hoodie. “I've been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Me, too,” Jack admitted. “Since the moment we met.”

“Really?” Bitty asked. “But I was such a mess at that party.”

“No,” Jack said. “You were passionate. It was beautiful.”

“Oh, stop,” Bitty said, not really meaning it. “I thought you were dating Lardo,” he admitted quietly. “Otherwise I might've- well, I wouldn't have been subtle. About how attractive I found you.”

“Guess it's true what they say,” Jack laughed. “'When you assume you make an ass out of ‘u’ and me.'”

“I'd say you've made the bigger ass out of yourself,” Bitty chirped. “By a margin.”

Jack rolled his eyes but the blush on his cheeks gave away his embarrassment. “You know, I've really done enough practice today. I'm just gonna get showered up and then maybe…?”

“Adam has class in ten minutes or so,” Bitty said innocently. “Our apartment will be empty for a while after that.”

Jack beamed. “I'll be out in five,” he said, leaning down to kiss Bitty soundly before rushing to get off the ice.

“I'll count the seconds,” Bitty joked, sitting down on one of the benches. “If you're not out in exactly five, I'm coming in.”

“I don't think I'd exactly be opposed to that,” Jack said with a smirk. “But I promise I'll be quick.”

Jack pulled off his skates and all but sprinted towards the locker room. And boy – Bitty did not like to see Jack leave, but he _loved_ watching him walk away.

Laughing a bit to himself, Bitty could hear Adam’s voice in his head: You could take the ass out of hockey, but you couldn't take hockey out of _that ass_.

He clasped his hands together and bounced his leg up and down, feeling giddy and nervous and impatient as he waited for Jack to return. The  _things_ he wanted to do to that boy...well, just thinking about them made him blush.  


It took four minutes and thirty-six seconds for Jack to emerge from the locker room, hair wet and eyes bright. If there wasn't the promise of an empty apartment waiting for him soon, Bitty thought he might jump Jack's bones right here in Faber. And from the look he was giving Bitty, Jack didn't seem all that opposed to that idea. 

They made it back to the apartment. Eventually. 

* * *

When Adam walked into the apartment, hand-in-hand with Ransom, he couldn't believe his eyes.

There, on the nasty, green couch was Jack Zimmermann, former hockey wunderkind and the loveable jackass who'd tried to fight Adam over his fake boyfriend. And on top of Jack, one hand planting firmly under Jack's magnificent ass, apparently trying to eat his entire face, was _Eric Richard Bittle._

“O-OH MY GOD!” Adam shouted, voice traveling up an octave as he screamed. “DO MINE EYES DECEIVE ME?”

Next to him, Ransom laughed. “Sorry, guys! We’ll scram-”

“-YOU’RE WELCOME, GUYS-”

“Babe, c’mon,” Ransom said, tugging on Adam’s hand. “We can study at the LAX house.”

“YOU’RE GIVING ME DEETS LATER, BITS!” Adam shouted as he let himself be dragged from the apartment. “ _DEETS_.”

“Dude,” Ransom said. “I like Bits. Don’t scar him.”

Adam bumped his hip against Ransom’s, grinning widely. “Bro, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for that to happen?”

“Since Epikegster?” Ransom asked with a smirk.

“Okay, yeah,” Adam admitted. “But more than that. Bitty _never_ brings dudes home. I’m so _proud_.”

“Proud?” Ransom asked. “Or nosy?”

Adam shrugged. “Can't a bro be both?”

Ransom laughed and squeezed Adam’s hand.

“I'm glad you two bounced back from that weird fight,” Ransom said as they walked out of the apartment complex. “I would've been really upset if I'd come between such an epic bromance, you know? I was really worried.”

Adam gave him a curious look. “Dude, it didn't fuck with your anxiety did it?”

Ransom shrugged and looked down. “Yeah, but, like, that happens. It's not a big deal.”

“Hey. Justin, look at me.” Adam halted, tugging on Ransom’s hand until he turned back. “The fight with Bits wasn't your fault at _all_ , okay? It was gonna happen and anything could've set it off. I never want you to feel anxious about me or this relationship or anything, okay? I know you can't control it but I'm never gonna hold a secret grudge or blame you for things in my life or some other dickass move like that. You're my _bro_ ; I'll always talk to you if something’s wrong.”

“Bro,” Ransom said softly. “Thanks.”

Adam leaned in to brush his lips against Ransom’s in a soft kiss. Ransom pulled him into deepen it, trying to express everything he'd come to feel about Adam in such a short amount of time.

Adam pulled back, grinning goofily, and tugged on Ransom’s hand as they began walking again. “So,” he said, swinging their arms back and forth. “Are we really studying or are we _gossiping_?”

Ransom laughed. “I don't see why we can't do both. Let’s text Shitty.”

* * *

 

“ _Brah,_ ” Shitty said emphatically, perching on the desk in Lardo study-cubby like he hadn’t been kicked out of Founders on numerous occasions and was now just tempting fate. Lardo shot a quick glance at the nearest librarian, but Shitty kept talking. “Did you hear about Bitty and Jack?”

“Not the deets,” Lardo said, moving her mug of coffee away from Shitty’s wildly waving arms. “But I knew Bitty was on a mission when he asked where Jack was earlier. What happened?”

Shitty grinned and leaned in for storytime, ignoring the dirty looks he was getting from surrounding students. “Okay, so Bits and Adam got into some weird fight about whether or not they’ve been, like, platonically dating for the past year or whatever, and Adam was _finally_ able to convince Bits that Jack has a raging heart-boner for him. So what does our favorite southern baker do? He marched that pert little ass of his all the way over the Faber and kissed Jack Zimmermann right on that sweet, maple-flavored mouth.”

“ _Bro_ ,” Lardo said, incredulous. “For _real_?”

“Chyeah,” Shitty said. “I really thought Jack would make the first move.”

“So they’re a thing now?” Lardo asked, closing her environmental science textbook with a loud thud. There was no way she was getting any studying done now. “A date-thing?”

“I think so,” Shitty said with a shrug. “I mean, Rans texted to say that he and Adam walked in on the boys mackin’, and I don’t know Zimmermann too well but I can guess that’s not something he does with just anyone.”

“It’s not,” Lardo confirmed, feeling a little shell-shocked. “Holy shit, it finally _happened_.”

“Ayup.” Shitty popped the ‘p’ loudly, causing the guy in the next cubby to sigh dramatically and gather his things to leave.

“C’mon, Shits,” Lardo said, packing up her own books. “Let’s go to Annie’s or something.”

Shitty beamed at her, holding out his arm for her bag once it was packed. She handed it over with a raised eyebrow, and Shitty immediately knew what she was trying to ask. “It’s not chauvinistic, it’s chivalrous,” he protested. “I’m being polite.”

“Mhmm,” Lardo said through a poorly concealed grin. “Sure. Let’s go get wings and garlic knots at Giovanni’s – my treat. While we’re being chivalrous and whatnot.”

“God, you’re, like, the greatest person ever invented, you know that?” Shitty asked, nudging her arm with his elbow.

Lardo felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and flattery. “Yeah, so I’ve been told.”

“Not enough, obviously,” Shitty continued as they trooped down the stairs to main foyer of the library. The girl at the help desk looked far too relieved to see Shitty leaving. “Like, you’re so... _you_ . Totally yourself. You’re so artsy and creative but, like, you kick ass at pong and binge wings with the best of them, but you’re also taking Enviro for _fun_ and you manage the hell outta those Volleyball girls. And you, like, never mock your girls for drinking sugary, “feminine” cocktails, or whatever other sexist bullshit, even though you’re a kegstand kind of lady, and you, like, bullied that sad sack of shit named Jack Zimmermann into being your best friend and you’re just- you’re the coolest person I’ve ever known, Lards.”

Though she would deny it later, Lardo felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t respond, couldn’t speak for the thickness in her throat. But she never needed words with Shitty.

Lardo punched his arm and called him a loser and basked in his obnoxious laughter all the way to Giovanni’s. And if she tangled her feet with Shitty’s under the table as they feasted their way through several orders of buffalo wings and garlic knots and mozzarella sticks, well – no one but the two of them had to know.

 

* * *

 

Jack stared at Shitty across the sticky, checkered table. Shitty hadn't stopped talking in over twenty minutes, hadn't even taken a sip of his coffee or possibly even a breath. The conversation had started as mundane small talk about classes, but suddenly Jack was listening to some grand speech about how it was important to be critical of your professors, but talking over them when you literally know nothing about Chaucer and are arguing just to prove a woman isn't smarter than you is a _fucking dick move, Steven_.

Jack hadn't grasped who exactly Steven was or why Shitty was taking a class on Chaucer when he wasn't even a lit major, but he found there was almost something soothing about Shitty’s nonstop chatter. It reminded him of Bittle, in a way, but even louder and with far more profanity.

Shitty was momentarily halted by the arrival of their pizza – a side of garlic breadsticks for Shitty, spinach salad for Jack – and Jack took that moment to speak up.

“You talk a lot,” was not what he meant say, but was, in fact, what came out of his mouth. He snapped his mouth shut immediately, absolutely mortified.

Shitty didn't seem to notice and laughed. “Yeah, bro, I get that a lot.”

“I just meant,” Jack scrambled. “Larissa’s as quiet as I am. It's just surprising, is all.”

“What can I say, dude?” Shitty shrugged. “I'm baffled myself. She's way too cool to like someone like me, yet here we are, waltzing our way around some archaic yet well-intentioned shovel talk.”

“I'm not giving you the shovel talk,” Jack said. He'd had to ask Bitty what that even meant, after Shitty’d used the term the first time. “I just...Larissa’s my best friend. If she likes you then I have to make an effort to get to know you. You don't seem like an ass,” he said. “And if you _ever_ hurt Larissa- I mean. I'll be helping her hide the body. Just so you're aware.”

“Nice subversion of the big brother trope, my friend,” Shitty said easily. “But is it totally subverted if you're still threatening me?”

Jack shrugged; Shitty was as hard to understand as Johnson, his old RA, had been. “I just want to see her happy. She’s helped me through a lot the past couple of years, so I’m a little overprotective.”

Shitty grinned widely. “Ah, Jacques Zimmermann, we’re gonna get on like a frat house on fire.”

“If you say so,” Jack said, sipping at his water. Somehow, he knew what Shitty said was true. But there was no way he was telling him that.

“So, how do you feel about Ancient Aliens?” Shitty asked around a huge mouthful of pizza.

Jack bit back a smile and let himself get sucked into another bizarre conversation.   


* * *

 

Lardo had long-since graduated from hunting down leg models on the quad, but it never hurt to practice with life models outside of the studio.

“Lards,” Adam grunted. “How long do we have to hold this fucking pose?”

Lardo looked up from her canvas. “I’ll let you know.”

“Please,” Ransom hissed. “My shoulders are starting to cramp mega-bad.”

“You’re young and athletic gentlemen,” Lardo said, erasing a few lines from her sketch. “I think you’ll be fine.”

“Aren’t there, like, pictures of Greek statues you could reference?” Ransom asked. “Statues don’t feel pain.”

“Not the same,” Lardo said mildly. “I need to be able to shade the jockstraps properly.”

Adam sighed, shifting slightly to look up at Ransom. “Hockey didn’t prepare me for something so...stationary.”

“Or homoerotic,” Ransom chirped, nudging his pelvis up against Adam’s back.

“Actually,” Adam said. “You’d be surprised.”

They both laughed and Lardo cracked a smile. “Shitty was telling me about hockey last night,” she said, focusing on the curve of Ransom’s back. “Said that’s where he got his nickname.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ransom said. “Boys called me Ranser.”

Adam grunted. “Yeah, I went by Birker in Juniors. Hated it.”

“Ransom’s much better than Ranser,” Lardo said. “Hmm, Birkholtz...Birker...Holtzy..Holtz- oh, _shit_!” She dropped her pencil, startling the others. “Holster! Ransom and Holster!”

“Holster…” Adam said slowly, brows furrowed. Then, his face lit up. “Ransom and Holster! That’s fuckin’ sick!”

“The sickest!” Ransom shouted. “You’re a genius, Lardo!”

“I know,” she said, hiding her smile behind the canvas. “Now hold still and A- Holster, fix your jock. I’m seeing _way_ too much of Birkholtz Jr. right now.”

* * *

Even with Jack and Ransom’s experienced guidance, everyone found themselves out of the campus-wide golf tournament within the first few rounds.

“Because golf is the worst sport ever invented,” Holster shouted, waving his borrowed club around wildly. “ _Thanks, Scotland.”_

“Babe,” Ransom said, snatching the club away from his boyfriend. “Shut up.”

Bitty looked up at Jack, worrying at his bottom lip. “I'm sorry we didn't make it farther,” he said. “You didn't get to show us much golf.”

Jack shrugged, smiling easily down at Bitty. “It's no big deal. I am a little disappointed I can't correct your, uh, stance anymore.”

Bitty’s face flushed pink at the thought of Jack pressed up against his back, readjusting his grip on the borrowed club. He'd intentionally flubbed his stances on purpose; it had cost him a place in the tournament but it had given him intimate moments with his _boyfriend_ in _public_. A fair trade, he supposed.

Their group wandered off to the edge of the golf course, plopping down on one of the further mounds away from the main course. The sun was setting behind the trees, casting a warm, orange glow across the green.

It was like puzzle pieces clicking together as they gathered in a circle. Lardo perched in Shitty’s lap, stealing the bag of vodka-soaked gummies he'd stashed in his pocket. Ransom and Holster leaned up against each other, playfully knocking elbows and feet until it veered close to wrestling territory. And Bitty sat between Jack’s leg, leaning up against him, grinning shyly as Jack’s arms wrapped around him. It had never felt like this with Aaron. Nothing had felt like this, not in figure skating or club hockey or even with Adam alone – there was something special about these friends.

“You know,” Ransom said, pretending to glare at Holster as he sprawled out with his head in Ransom’s lap. “I've been thinking. We all would’ve been a part of the hockey team if we’d stuck with it, wouldn’t we?”

“Hey!” Lardo protested, tossing a gummy bear at his face.

“Dude, maybe you would’ve managed it instead of the volleyball team,” Holster said, opening his mouth wide so Ransom could feed him the gummy.

Lardo snorted. “Like I’d organize _your_ pathetic asses.”

“Oh, no,” Bitty said, shaking his head. “I could never’ve been a part of a league with _checking._ I woulda fainted right on the ice first time some big fella came at me.”

“S’true,” Holster said. “But me and Rans would've had your back. We totes would've been d-partners.”

“Chyeah,” Ransom said, holding out his fist. Holster bumped it with as much enthusiasm as he could muster while lying down.

“We oughtta play shinny once the Pond is solid enough,” Shitty said, resting his chin on Lardo’s shoulder. “Lards can show off her mad skills, skating without holding onto the wall.”

“Shut up,” Lardo said mildly.

“Would you want to do that, Jack?” Bitty asked softly. They'd talked some of Jack’s past, his overdose and his father’s legacy and Kent Parson’s insistence that he return as hockey’s prodigal son, but Bitty wasn't certain of how playing hockey with other people again would affect Jack.

Jack smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’d love to play on your line,” he murmured. “You're the fastest skater I've ever seen.”

Somehow, more than compliments on his appearance or remarks about his sunny disposition, that statement left Bitty speechless. Jack Zimmermann did not lie or exaggerate when it came to hockey. Bitty could feel his face burning with embarrassment and pride.

“Man,” Shitty said. “It's like we were destined to meet, you know?”

“Not really,” Lardo said. “Lots of people do sports in high school.”

“Nah, man,” Shitty continued, wrapping his arms around Lardo so he could gesture animatedly in front of both of them. Lardo’s skeptical look melted into something akin to shyness, and she leaned back to tuck her head under Shitty’s chin.

“I mean,” Shitty said, waving his hands towards the rest of the circle. "Dude, we've got an over-competitive golf dad, a badass art freak, a pre-med lax bro on the verge of a breakdown, a chronically naked rugby player, a beat-boxing giant, and an itty-bitty, baking figure skater - there's no way we came together accidentally. This was fate."

Lardo snorted. "Or it's the normal progression of human beings making friends. Chill out, bro."

“It was DESTINY!” Holster boomed, sitting up so fast he nearly smacked Ransom in the head.

“FATE!” Ransom chimed in.

“PREDESTINATION!” Shitty jumped to his feet, dumping Lardo onto the grass. She clutched at the bag of gummies and shifted over to lean against Jack’s shoulder.

“FATE! FATE! FATE! FATE!” The boys chanted, clapping their hands together like they were at a sporting event. Bitty watched in horror as Shitty’s shirt came off despite the cold evening, and the three of them began parading back towards the tournament.

“Do we follow, or do we pretend we don’t know them?” He asked, glancing at Lardo.

She shrugged. “I wanna watch Shitty get arrested.”

“Oh, Lord,” Bitty whispered, letting Jack haul him to his feet. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

“Adventure?” Jack guessed, voice completely monotone. Bitty snorted and slapped him gently on the chest.

“Sure. Adventure,” he said, letting Jack take his hand as they slowly followed their ridiculous friends.

Lardo grinned at them and shrugged. “What else is college for?”

From far ahead, one of the boys shrieked, and suddenly all three of them were in the small – and disgusting – water hazards. Somehow, along the way, Holster had lost his pants.

“I’m not paying their bail,” Bitty said shortly.

Jack grinned and pecked his cheek. “I think I’m good for it, eh?”

“Oh, no, Zimmermann,” Lardo said. “How else will they learn their lesson?”

“Touche,” Jack said. “You two wanna get Jerry’s?”

“DID SOMEONE SAY JERRY’S?!” Ransom screamed from the murky depths of the pond.

“They’ll catch up,” Lardo said. “I want pancakes.”

“Only if they have real syrup today,” Jack teased. “Sometimes they use that sugary crap.”

Bitty let the two of them pull him away from the golf course, down the path that led back to campus.  All of this – the amazing friends, the shiny, new boyfriend – was something that Bitty had never imagined himself having when he was fifteen and locked in a supply closet overnight. There _was_ something about this new and wonderful part of his life that felt fated – or perhaps, simply, _right_.  

The night was chilly and his jacket was too thin, but Bitty felt warm in the glow of this perfect evening, with a large, happy Canadian glued to his side.

 

* * *

 

That night, as Bitty walked back to Jack and Lardo’s apartment, falling behind the rest of the group, Jack asked, “Do you think they’re right?”

“Hmm?” Bitty asked. “Who? Right about what?”

Jack wrapped an arm around Bitty’s shoulder. “That we were meant to meet?”

Bitty sighed and leaned against Jack’s chest. It was harder to walk that way, but Jack leaned into the touch, pulling him closer. “Maybe. This feels right – all of it. This group...us.”

He could feel Jack smile. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Mhmm,” Bitty hummed, eyes fluttering closed. Jack herded him around a fire hydrant, hand dropping lower to Bitty’s hip. “Maybe in that life, we would’ve figured things out sooner.”

“Nah,” Jack said, ducking to kiss Bitty’s crown. “Good things don’t come easy.”

“Charmer,” Bitty said.

“I’m serious, though,” Jack said softly, glancing down shyly. “I...I know we haven’t known each other long, but from the moment we met, it just seemed...meant to be. Not even us dating,” he added quickly. “Just. Being together. Friends.”

“Friends at first sight?” Bitty teased gently. Jack chuckled.

“Yeah, maybe. Or love,” he admitted.

Bitty thought his chest would pound straight out of his chest. “There was a pull,” he all but whispered. “When I first saw you, there was this- magnetic force pulling me toward you. Like I fell into your orbit or something.”

They’d stopped walking now, the rest of the group disappearing around the bend. Jack pulled away to take both of Bitty’s hands in his, bringing one up to his lips. “I fell into _your_ orbit, you mean,” he said. “You’re like the sun, Bits, bright and amazing and awe-inspiring. I’m just Pluto, compared to everything you are to me.”

Bitty was dumbstruck. “Pluto’s my favorite planet,” he whispered, regretting the words almost immediately.

Jack laughed, stepping closer. “Really? You like cold, lonely things?”

“No,” Bitty said weakly. “Pluto’s so small and so far away, but it’s still strong enough to travel farther than any other planet to make its way around the sun.”

Jack gave him an adoring look. “I don’t think Pluto has much say it what gravity does to it.”

Bitty rose up on his tiptoes to kiss Jack softly. “He does in this metaphor,” Bitty whispered against Jack’s lips. “He’s the strongest planet in the whole universe.”

“Pluto isn’t a planet,” Jack protested mildly, kissing Bitty again, and again, and again. “But thank you.”

“Let’s go home,” Bitty said. “The others have probably set something on fire by now.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “But let’s take the long way. The river’s beautiful this time of night.”

“Sure, Jack.” Bitty smiled brightly. “The long way home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I can't believe this fic is FINALLY over! Thank you to everyone who hung around and commented, kudo-ed, and bookmarked. Your support is the only reason this beast got FINISHED! 
> 
> come say hi on tumblr, i'm [eve-baird](http://eve-baird.tumblr.com).


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